


Kings of Promise

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aquariums, Baseball, Challenges, Domestic Violence, Duelling, Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bar, High School, Japanese Character(s), Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Original Character(s), Role Reversal, School Clubs, School Festivals, Sleeping Together, Will add more tags as I go, based on novel canon, cuz surprise motha, for now, or what passes as it, why is that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 71,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9133417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: Shibuya Yuuri came to Shin Makoku and changed everything, but not everyone is happy with that. So a particular all-powerful someone wonders: what if they had gone there before he came here?On the day he's supposed to get flushed down the toilet, Shibuya Yuuri meets Wolfram von Bielefeld.On Earth.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedGlassesGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGlassesGirl/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sad, lonely someone wants to make everyone else sad and lonely too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, New Year's Eve prologue became New Year's Day prologue... Some of the irony is lost, but ah well~ //now I get more time to work on the rest ahahaha

The man in the glass room is thinking.

                Well, he’s always thinking, but today it is a good type of thinking, though about not-so-good things that put him in a not-so-good mood. It’s not like he has anything better to do except sit around thinking, and occasionally turning on the screen on the empty wall to see outside. Sometimes the outside bored him too, and he would go back to thinking, sometimes of nothing at all. But today he has a dilemma.

                A dilemma. Him. His opponent is formidable indeed.

                But then again, he smiles, so is he. And goodness—he knocks himself on the head with an ethereal fist—he was getting ahead of himself. What was he thinking? He hasn’t had a worthy opponent for years.

                After all, what was a king who would not move, in a game where he’s the only one playing?

                If the board isn’t to his liking— he pulls the black king back from the middle of the board, placing it back onto its starting square with a satisfying thud.

                He’ll just have to restart it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the chapters are a lot longer than this X'D A birthday gift for RedGlassesGirl, who requested an AU cuz she likes seeing them fall in love~ Now it's six chapters and definitely counting. Starting 2017 with a resolution: hit 30k words?
> 
> //already halfway there what is this lazyass resolution  
> //also can anyone guess where the title is from
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVERYBODY!


	2. A Different Origin Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, so AO3 registered the prologue as Dec 31 after all... Well, here's the Jan 1 chapter then~

In order to save an ex-classmate I barely talked to, I’m going to get my head dunked into a modernized toilet by old-fashioned bullies. Apparently retro is back in style now, but I really don’t know what I think about that. Modern and old-fashioned, right now I kind of dislike both.

                Just think of it as something else you wash your face in, it’s about the same thing—

                “What is this foolishness?”

                This is supposed to be the story of how, in order to save an ex-classmate, I was flushed down the toilet.

                Instead, this is how I was saved by a beautiful blonde foreigner. This is how I met him.

 

 

Wait, does this mean I’m the damsel-in-distress being rescued by the golden-haired prince!?

                I slump down to the floor, stunned by the blow to my ego, while the delinquents round down on my savior. Ah, look at that hair, and those green eyes, he’s surely a foreigner. I wonder if he’s heard any of those strange Japanese customs foreign people seem to think we have. What if he asks me to be his samurai forever in return for saving my life? O-or, what if he wants me to carry him to the Dragon King’s Palace on my back? I don’t know to scuba dive…

                And it seems he won’t need a samurai, either. Frowning those beautifully-sculpted eyebrows, he took out the delinquents while my brain was still going around in circles, and now wipes his hand as though touching them had dirtied him. Or maybe it’s just because we’re in a toilet.

                I open my mouth to say—

                “This is the ladies’ toilet, y’know.”

                “Is that so? I don’t see any girls in here, except you, maybe.”

                I-I really am the damsel-in-distress… No, wait! I saved Murata, so he’s the real damsel—

                “But you’re not a girl, are you?”

                The stranger grabs my chin and pulls my face up to his. No, no, even if I’m the damsel I’m not cursed or anything, so I definitely don’t need a k-k-k-k-kiiii—

                “How black your eyes are.”

                I blink, and find myself staring into his large solemn eyes, the same green as the bottom of the lake. His eyelashes, too…

                “So pretty…” How can a boy be so pretty? It’s not fair, he’ll get all the girls for sure.

                “Hmph, maybe.” The stranger pulls away suddenly. “But I don’t like people who praise their own beauty.”

                Ugh, he thought I was talking about myself… How lame. And surely I misheard what he said about ‘my beauty’, haha.

                “Your eyes are blacker than theirs.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the delinquents, now slumped on the ground, “but everyone here has black hair and dark eyes, dammit!”

                “Well, this is Japan, after all.” Does he have something against Asian people? I pout a little. Just because he’s a natural blonde doesn’t give him the right to gloat or look down on others. I’m starting to think twice about this arrogant prince.

                “Tsk, I don’t get this place.” He puts his hand on his waist and seems to stumble for a second, as though missing something that should be there. It just puts him in an even worse mood. Geez, is he always this angry? “Hey, you.”

                “I have a name, y’know,” I say instinctively. “It’s Shibuya Yuuri. Or, uh, Yuuri Shibuya to you people. Maybe.”

                “Do I look like I care?” His gaze is totally looking down on me, I just know it! But, uh, maybe that’s because I’m still sitting on the floor. As I scramble to my feet, he grabs me again, this time by the wrist. “Just now, when they were holding you down, you gave up, didn’t you? You didn’t even try fighting them.”

                “Fighting?” That reminds me. “Try not to fight here. We Japanese are a peaceful people.”

                “Are those guys out there Japanese?”

                “Of course.”

                “Well, they weren’t peaceful.” He looks at me like I’m a wimp, and I feel my face burning up. “Only a wimp wouldn’t find back when they’re being beaten down.”

                He said it! He really said it! He called someone he just met a wimp!

                I raise my hand… and put it on my face. Sigh… He’s going to get into a lot of trouble here. Whatever, whatever. I’m just a regular baseball boy who’s not even that good at baseball, I have no right to lecture a stubborn prince like him on how to be Japanese. “Anyway, thanks.”

                “Hmph.”

                In the end, I still can’t help it. “When someone thanks you, you’re supposed to politely decline it, or say something like, ‘Ah, it was nothing’.”

                “You really are a busybody, aren’t you?”

                Yes, I figured. “Anyway, watch out.”

                “I wonder, are all Earthlings like you?”

                …Huh?

                Before I can ask, he turns around and strides away, his blonde hair blowing in the breeze. I could almost imagine a cloak flying behind him, that’s how gracefully he walks. It’s almost not human.

                Too bad the beautiful foreign prince also seems to have a bad case of chuunibyou.

 

I thought I would never see him again after that.

                After all those events that would make anyone’s heart beat faster, I simply walked out of the toilet and away from the park. Oh, I checked the delinquents’ breathing before I left, but they looked like they were going to wake up already anyway, so I just left even faster after that. If anyone asked, I was going to say sorry, officer, it wasn’t me.

                As for who it actually was, well, I don’t know his name, do I? So it can’t be helped if I don’t help with investigations.

                When I got home, Shouri was in his room playing games, and Mom made her best curry for dinner. My old man complained about his boss again, then I finished my homework and went to bed.

                Somehow, it felt anticlimactic. But it also felt safe.

                Of course, all that just disappeared when, at school the next day, I hear the voice I haven’t had time to forget yet.

                “Yuuri! Yuuri Shibuya!”

                I want to hide my head under my textbook. I’m not the spy that likes his drinks shaken, not stirred, and besides, it doesn’t make my name any cooler or any less embarrassing. Maybe the opposite. I can already imagine people I don’t know at all thinking, “Harajuku Fuuri?” Or rather, “Fuuri Harajuku?” Furry Harajuku? Ah, this is getting worse and worse.

                I don’t think I’m all that popular, but he must have gotten directions from someone in school because he finds my classroom anyway. Throwing the classroom door open, he takes up the entire doorway like an angry angel, and throws me a letter. To be able to throw such a light piece of paper with such power and precision, as expected, he’s really talented. I catch it easily.

                Hmm? T-this is?

                “After school,” he jabs a finger at me, his face red. “Meet me under that cherry tree!”

                And he points at the large tree on the hill right outside my classroom window.

                E-eh!? Does he have any idea—No, of course he doesn’t! But why are you blushing!?

                With another loud “hmph”, he stalks away, even his neck turning the color of beetroot as he treads down the corridor lined with whispering students. Aah, don’t tell me you’re the easily embarrassed type? Then you really should have thought it through before doing this…

                I look at the challenge letter in my hands helplessly. I can’t read it at all.

                Once the school bell rings, I stuff all my things into my bag, pick up my baseball bat, and run as fast as I can for the tree. W-wait, would people think I’m so impatient to meet him? This misunderstanding seems to be getting worse no matter what I do… But whatever, I need to tell him before he accidentally makes things worse.

                When I reach the top of the hill, bending down to pause for breath, the bat tucked in the side pocket of my bag falls out and rolls towards him. He looks perfectly at ease there, sitting at the bottom of the tree as though he’s been there all his life. Compared to him, I feel like a fool with my sweaty armpits and messy hair.

                I’ve known him for all of two days, but I’m already thinking he’s particularly good at making me feel stupid. I shake my head, splashing sweat everywhere. He twitches his nose in disgust. Well, lookie here, prince, you’ll be feeling like an idiot too once you hear what I’m going to tell you.

                “You’re the one I was looking for, after all.”

                As expected, he interrupts before I can say anything—Huh?  What did he just say?

                “Fate sure is a strange thing.”

                He pulls me up by the chin again and then pins me to the tree with one arm. While I’m still stunned, he takes the letter out of my hand, straightens it out, and gives it back to me solemnly.

                “I hope you will accept this.”

                “……”

                “Yuuri?”

                “Dammit, don’t call my name so casually!” Aaah, he’s done it, he’s really done it, there’s no saving this—

                One of the girls trying to hide behind the bushes finally gathers her courage to stand up and ask, “Um… May I ask, what is that letter?”

                “This?” The prince frowns. Lady, can’t you see that manly handsome scrawl on the cover of the envelope? Even though his handwriting is so atrocious even I can’t understand it, surely you can see it’s a letter of challenge, right? Or something like that! Whatever it is, it’s not—

                “Is it a confession letter?” the girl practically squeaks.

                “No!” I yell, and the prince nods in agreement with me. Thank goodness, thank goodness he understands—

                “It’s a proposal.”

                There’s a high-pitch scream. I’m not sure if it’s from her or me. I do know, however, that my patience is finally at an end. Trembling from head to toe, I pick up my baseball bat and get ready to sock him over the head with it.

                And of course he dodges easily, taking the bat away from my hands. Gah, how can one person be so perfect and at the same time so infuriating!

                “Why are you so angry, Yuuri?” For the first time, he sounds confused.

                “No no no,” the girl giggles. “He’s probably just shy. Don’t you know, in this school, giving someone a letter under this cherry tree means you want to be with that person forever! It’s basically a ma.rriage. pro.po.sal~”

                “A what!?”

                “Now do you get it!?” I just want to get up and shake him by the collar. “Aah, there’s no way I’m getting a girlfriend after this— Watch out!”

                All of my lifelong baseball instincts warn me of the ball before I see it coming. I charge at him, ready to push him away, when I see the determination flash in his eyes. That is the gaze of someone used to dealing with sudden attacks.

                With a beautiful form and perfect aim, he swings the bat and hits the ball out of the park.

                “Whoa, amazing…”

                “What were you thinking!?” For some reason, he’s yelling at me. “Are you an idiot!? What could you have done by running at me like that, block the ball with your bare body?”

                “Why not?” I say automatically. “It’s okay for me, I’m used to taking a few hits on the field.”

                He opens his mouth to say something more, but is interrupted by another student who comes running up the hill. The newcomer is wearing a tattered baseball jersey, and his clothes are covered in mud. He’s pretty big too, solidly build. Most of it seems to be from years of hard training, but I’m also quite sure he’s a lot older than me. A third year, probably.

                “That was a gorgeous hit,” the senior says in awe. “Do you play baseball?”

                The prince frowns, then recognition dawns. “You mean the sport played with this bat and that ball? Yeah, I do. My… brother taught me a bit on the side.”

                “Only a bit?” The senior looks a little jealous, and to be honest, so am I. “What raw talent… Do you want to join the baseball club?”

                My heart sinks slightly. I thought—I thought this school didn’t have a baseball club. That’s why I came here.

                “I’m not interested,” the prince is saying. “I’m only here for this guy.” And he jabs a thumb at me. I think I hear one of the girls swooning.

                The senior obviously doesn’t know what happened before, with the “confession” and all, but he looks at me carefully. And then his eyes widen. “Hey, are you Yuuri—I mean, are you Shibuya Yuuri, by any chance?”

                The prince looks as surprised as I feel. I swallow, my throat feeling dry. “Y-yeah, that’s me.”

                “I heard this guy yelling your name this morning. Now I know why it sounds so familiar. You were a pitcher in middle school, weren’t you?”

                I try to keep my expression as blank as possible. For some reason, I don’t want the prince to know about that part of my past. “Yeah, I was. But as you can see, I can’t play anymore, so…”

                The senior waves away my concerns. “My brother was in your team. Hey, man, you’re his hero.”

                My voice comes out louder than I wanted it to. “I’m not a—”

                “But that’s not for you to decide, is it? If even one person thinks you are, then to that person, you’re a hero.” The senior’s eyes are solemn yet kind. “You seem like a responsible guy, once you get past that hot-headedness of your youth.”

                Me, responsible? I’m suddenly aware of the prince’s intense gaze on me. As though he’s watching me closely, looking for… something. I clear my throat. “Maybe.”

                “Do you still want to play?”

                I play outside with my grasslot team, but high school baseball… a team my age…

                “…Yeah.”

                “Great!” The senior puts his hands on my shoulders, grinning happily. Is it just me, or are guys getting particularly touchy around me recently? And the senior’s smile just gets wider and wider the more he stares at me, until it’s slightly creepy—

                To all of our surprise, the prince abruptly pulls me away from his grip.

                “You’re hurting him.”

                Only then do I realize my shoulders are a bit sore. As expected of a senior player.

                “Ah, sorry, sorry.” The senior scratches his head. “I just got too excited. The club here is practically dead, you see. I’m one of the only ones left, and we’re all graduating soon. So I thought, here’s some fresh blood, with talent too, and I got ahead of myself. Sorry, sorry.”

                See, prince? This is how you talk to people. I feel like agreeing to whatever the senior says already.

                “So, Shibuya Yuuri, will you take up my offer?”

                If it’s just a small, dying team anyway… It’s not like I can make things any worse, right? So instinctively, out of a deep yearning in my heart that never went away, I nod.

                “Wonderful!” The senior’s smile is blinding. “That’s settled, then. Starting today, you’re the baseball team captain!”

                Ehhhhhhhhh--!?

 

*

 

“So how did you find your future king? Do you still think he’s a spineless wimp?”

              “Tsk. Maybe he’s not all useless. I mean… I guess he has the makings of a leader.” A pause. “We’ll just have to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I pondered between making it a full AU, where Wolfram is just a regular Earth guy so I could bring in the others as well, or doing this whole 'what if this had happened' angle instead, and... you see what I chose.


	3. Transfer Student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to school is all about learning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop posting these last minute...

He’s wearing a bright blue uniform today. As I stare at his back, it suddenly occurs to me that the color really suits him, a lot more than yesterday’s casual clothes. I wonder why.

                And also, you’re transferring into our school, right? Shouldn’t you at least wear our school uniform then?

                “My name is von Bielefeld Wolfram.” He finishes writing his name in words none of us can read, and starts to say in a slightly haughty voice, “I just moved here from--” he consults a cue card, “—Germany, but I’ll be staying with a family friend as my parents are busy.”

                As I play with my pencil, I can’t help but think there’s something stiff about his little self-introduction. It really sounds like a speech. And who forgets what country they’re from, anyway? As expected, people are already whispering things about how odd he is.

                “…he’s so beautiful…”

                “I wonder if he has a girlfriend…”

                “Wait, don’t you remember? Yesterday…”

                And then all their gazes fall on me, including his.

                “Why don’t you take a seat, Bielefeld-kun?” The teacher’s voice is forcefully cheerful.

                The prince—von Bielefeld Wolfram nods, and as I feared, starts walking towards me. There are a few empty seats, but only one behind me.

                Ugh… I-I guess I should help him out a bit. After all, he’s all alone here in this country, and I’m his only friend—if he thinks of me that way. Besides, I can’t help but feel – just a little—guilty that I only just found out his name. After all that happened yesterday, I never even bothered to ask. So much for those famous Japanese manners.

                I shake my head. As a member of the host country, I must treat our guests politely.

                “Welcome to the class, Bie—”

                “If it’s you, Yuuri, just Wolfram will do.”

                Somehow the whispers got louder. You know what, after thinking it through last night, I decided that I won’t care what people say anymore. He may be weird and a bit arrogant, but he’s not a bad guy.

                “Okay, Wolf. It’s nice to meet you, let’s work well together from now on. And this is where you say, ‘Please take care of me.’”

                “…Please take care of me.”

                See? He’s not a bad guy.

 

I take my usual corner on the roof at lunchtime with a sigh.

                Meanwhile, Wolfram tears open the plastic on his first ever yakisoba-pan. “ What’s the matter now?”

                “No offense, but are you always this grumpy?” I sigh again. “I was just lamenting my lonely high school life…”

                I know I just started my first year, but still. I didn’t even notice that I usually had lunch alone until I realized no one would have any problem with me inviting Wolfram to lunch.

                “Well, I’m here now.” He says it casually, as though still oblivious to what people are thinking about us. Or does he just not care? As expected of these foreigners, they’re so liberal. “This… noodle-bread… is not bad.”

                “Is that so?” I say absently, opening my lunchbox. As usual, Mom made a bunny bento fit for an elementary school student, or a kindergartener. “I bought it once or twice, but it usually sells out really fast. Besides, my mom always makes too much for lunch.” Me, if I could get away with protein shakes for all three meals, I would.

                Since it’s his first day, someone had given him a yakisoba-pan as a “welcome gift”. He probably doesn’t even know how precious it is—I heard people would get hurt in the stampede to buy it, especially on the days when the Boxing Club has training in the afternoon. That’s when it gets really bloody.

                Sensing that he’s gone quiet, I glance up to find him staring at my lunch box.

                “What, do you want some?” I tease him.

                He turns slightly red. “N-no! Why would you think that!? I just—it just reminded me of someone, that’s all!”

                “This rabbit does? Oh, do you have a pet rabbit in Germany?” It doesn’t fit his image much.

                “In where? Oh, I mean—No, I don’t have a rabbit. My older brother used to, though.” Wolfram probably doesn’t notice the small smile playing on his lips. “This looks like something he would make.”

                “Your brother sounds cute,” I say, picking up a flower-shaped carrot slice my mother used for the rabbit’s eye with my chopsticks. “Ah.”

                “Hah?” He opens his mouth wide, and I drop the carrot into his mouth, enjoying his slight look of panic more than I should.

                “Don’t choke and don’t spit it out, my mom made that.”

                He glares at me, hammering his chest with his fist until finally he gets the vegetable down his throat. I watch him innocently as he coughs, trying to catch his breath. “Did it taste good?”

                “I—cough—didn’t taste it at all!”

                His face is even redder now. Maybe that was a bit mean of me. To make up for the guilty feeling gnawing at my heart, I pick up the largest piece of chicken, perfectly marinated and dripping juices. “Here, this is good. I promise.”

                He throws me another glare, and as though afraid I would take it back, quickly eats the chicken from straight off my chopsticks. “Hmph. It’s not bad, I guess.”

                I stare at the tips of my chopsticks, glistening with the juices. Should I wipe them? I think I have tissue somewhere. But isn’t it rude to do that? What would he think? So I should just continue eating as though nothing’s wrong? B-but, that’s an indirect ki—

                “Here, in exchange. You like this too, right?”

                He thrusts the half-eaten yakisoba-pan into my face, giving me no choice. Ahh, why is he so clueless about Japanese customs? I almost want to glare at him myself, but… yakisoba-pan…

                Whatever. Desperately trying to ignore the curious gazes from the other students on the rooftop, I take a bite of his lunch. It is good. Well, after that there’s no point in worrying about my chopsticks anymore, is there?

                We continue eating in silence.

                “S-so…” I’m really bad at awkward moments like this. “You have a brother?”

                “Yeah. …Two, actually.”

                What was with that pause? I’m starting to worry for his memory. It’s one thing to forget which country you’re from—No, actually, that’s not okay either. And it’s even worse to almost forget how many brothers you have. “Are both of them older than you?”

                He cocks his head, emerald eyes looking right through me. “Why are you so curious?”

                “N-no reason.” Doesn’t he understand casual conversation? “Well, I thought since we’re going to be classmates anyway, I should know more about you.”

                “Hmm.” He falls silent, and I squirm at the atmosphere a bit more until he suddenly says, “My older brother may be cute in some ways, but he’s taken, so don’t even think about cheating on me.”

                “I see… Hah!?” I almost knock over my lunch box. “W-what are you suggesting!?”

                He reaches over and picks another slice of chicken out of my lunch, tossing it into his mouth. “I’m not a fool, I know what people are thinking after yesterday. It’s fine, I’ll take responsibility.”

                “For what!?”

                “That’s why, Yuuri, you have to be faithful to me too.”

                “But—but we’re both guys!”

                “Yes, so?”

                I—I can’t communicate with this guy. I hang my head as he helps himself to more of my lunch. It seems one bun isn’t enough for him. Maybe I should ask my mom to make extras.

                As I watch him eat, carefully and gracefully chewing every mouthful, I can’t hold my curiosity. I know I spent some time as a toddler in Boston, but I don’t really remember that very well, and I don’t know any other foreigners here either. He seems so far removed from me, from Japanese people, that I just have to ask him more. But where do I start?

                “So… did your mother make lunchboxes for you too?”

                For one second I thought he would stare at me and say, “I don’t have a mother” or something like that, but thankfully he just shakes his head. “No, Mother never cooks. We have the servants for that.”

                I see, servants… Servants? I feel even weaker. He really is far from my world. “Just like a prince, huh?”

                “How did you guess?”

                Wait, I was right!? No, it could be his chuunibyou again. But the more time I spend with him, the more I feel he’s not the type to indulge in childish fantasies like that. Maybe he really is a prince, and I misheard what he said about Earthlings or something. Yeah, that’s more likely.

                I feel like sighing again. Why do I trust someone I just met yesterday more than my own ears?

                “What about you?” His voice pulls my attention back. “What’s your brother like?”

                “Oh, Shouri? He’s just a regular otaku, but he wants to be governor of Tokyo someday. Can you imagine? He is quite smart, though.” I lower my gaze. “A lot smarter than me. Ah, and he’s in college now, so he’s quite a bit older than me. What about your brothers? Are they still studying?”

                “No… They’re both working, I think.”

                “You should care more about your family,” I can’t help but scold him. “Next thing you’ll tell me you don’t know when your parents’ birthdays are.”

                “I don’t. We don’t celebrate birthdays where I come from.”

                Complete communication breakdown… “But don’t the people celebrate the king’s birthday?”

                Murata would probably laugh at me if he knew I actually believed Wolfram saying he’s a prince. Speaking of which, I should probably call Murata again after that day. Do I even have his number? Meanwhile, Wolfram is saying, “No, and Mother never liked people saying she got older, either.”

                I see, so it’s a queen, not king. “How about your father?”

                “Oh, he died a long time ago.”

                See, I knew this would happen. “S-sorry about that.”

                “It doesn’t really matter, I don’t remember him anyway. It was always my brothers who raised me.”

                Not your mother? But—“You really like your brothers, don’t you?”

                His expression turns strange, as though he wants to nod proudly and yell at me at the same time. “If you’re talking about my oldest brother, Gwendal, then yes, I do love and respect him. He is a great and capable leader, who is admired and feared by all.”

                Uwaa, he sounds like a scary guy. “And your other brother?”

                Here, Wolfram’s expression cloud slightly. “My other… brother, his name is Conrad. I suppose you could say he cares for me a lot.”

                I nod. “So was he the one who likes rabbits?”

                “No, that’s Gwendal-niisan.”

                Eh!? The strict oldest prince is the one who would make a bunny-rabbit bento? “Wow, I can’t imagine that at all… If you don’t mind, could you show me a picture of them?” For some reason, I’m even more curious than ever now.

                “A picture?” Wolfram frowns. “As in a painting?”             

                “…Huh?” Don’t they have photographs in Germany? Wait, do they even have a king in Germany? Shaking off my confusion, I pull out my phone and scroll through the pictures. “This, something like this! Surely you have a family photo with you?”

                He stares at my phone, fascinated. “Is that you? Yuuri, you were a lot cuter as kid.”

                “You don’t have to tell me that!”

                “And your mother looks very young.”

                “She still looks like that… We’re going off-topic again! Show me your family!”

                “Why do you care so much?” Wolfram says, but he digs into his bag anyway, pulling out a… notebook? “I don’t have any of those—photos with me, but I can draw Gwendal-niisan if you want to see him so badly. But remember, Yuuri, no cheating on me.”

                Is he joking? He must be joking. I just sit back helplessly and watch him scribble furiously with his pencil. Ah, lunchtime should be ending soon… “Here.”

                “So fast!” I take the notebook from him, and feel my mouth fall open. “W-wow, you’re really good at this!”

                He looks away, reddening slightly. “F-flattery won’t get you anywhere, wimp.”

                Somehow I get the feeling that nickname will stick… In that case, there’ll be plenty of time for me to get mad at him later. For now, I can’t help but admire his drawing. The man in it is definitely a strict older brother, just look at those wrinkles on his forehead. Even his beloved little brother can’t imagine him smiling, huh? But… at the same time, somehow, I can imagine this stern face lovingly making a bunny rabbit bento.

                Just then, the bell rings. Wolfram perks up, startled, then relaxes again when he realizes what it means. “Is lunchtime over already? Huh, that was faster than I expected.”

                Really? It feels longer to me. Maybe it’s because I learned so much about him.

                I trace the face on the paper before handing the notebook back to him. “Your brother doesn’t really look like you, does he? Does he look like your father?”

                “Of course not, why would he? He looks like his father. All of us three brothers have different fathers.”

                … It seems I still have a lot more to learn.


	4. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people come together, and Yuuri falls apart(?).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lookie, action~

There is Baseball Club practice after school.

                “Technically, the school considers our club half-disbanded already, which is why they didn’t tell you juniors about us on the first day, haha. But it’s okay, with you, Shibuya, and your friend over there, the club can continue living!”

                The senior makes it sound like an old man on life support. I shrug anyway, and follow him into the dusty club room. Behind me, Wolfram is strangely quiet. He does that sometimes, and I can’t help feeling that during those times, he is silently watching me. Assessing me.

                I take a deep breath and cough on the dust. Behind me, he snickers.

                “Between us three third-years and you two first-years, we’ll have five people,” the senior is saying happily. “That’s the minimum requirement for a club, so we don’t have to worry about the Student Council kicking us out this year!”

                That may be enough for a school club, but it’s still not even half a baseball team.

                “I know we’re wrong for making you captain since you’re still a freshman and all, Shibuya, but us third years are barely passing our exams as it is, haha, and being captain sure involves a lot of paperwork.”

                Now you’re just being lazy.

                “But don’t worry about that, you just have to get a cute manager! With your pretty friend here, I’m sure lots of girls would want to join!”

                I’m starting to think I misjudged this person. Wolfram is smirking at me too, as though reading my regret. But when we got onto the tiny corner of the field we were allowed to practice on, and I saw how much fun my seniors had just throwing the ball around… Maa, it’s their third year. Might as well let them have their fun.

                “I’m sure they have it rough too,” I say, tossing the ball at Wolfram.

                He catches it easily. “You’re too soft. As they are now, they’ll never win any battles. Since they made you captain, you should lead them.”

                “Are you kidding? Look, they say I’m captain, but I’m still a freshman, y’know? There’s no way I can order my seniors around.”

                “But you play with adults outside, right? As catcher, don’t you give them orders too?”

                I catch his toss, staring at him. “How do you know that?”

                “I-I saw you playing yesterday! It’s by the river, right?”

                “Yeah.” He’s definitely lying. I shrug. Well, I don’t really care either way, but he sure is strange. “Do you want to try some batting? We’ll have to run a bit to fetch the ball, but as long as you don’t break any windows, it’ll be good exercise.”

                He looks at me curiously, and finally smiles. “You really like baseball, don’t you?”

                “Yep, I’m a baseball boy, through and through.” I pass him my battered baseball bat.

                “There are worse hobbies for a king to have, I suppose. It’s better than Mother’s harem, at any chance.”

                I can’t help but look at him sideways. So he wants to be king? What about his brothers, then? Well, he does seem to like his brothers, or at least the oldest one, a lot, so I guess I shouldn’t worry about them killing each other for the throne like in the movies… right?

                “Yuuri, what are you waiting for? I’m ready!”

                Either way, it’s none of my business. I shake those thoughts away, and put my full being into pitching. This is my element.

 

Despite the club not being quite what I expected, we still ended up having a lot of fun. So much, in fact, that it’s almost evening by the time we walk out of school.

                “You don’t play often, do you, Wolf?” After a whole afternoon of taking turns with the bat, I feel a lot closer to him. As I always say, there’s no better way to bond than a good game of baseball. “You’re really talented, but your swing can get a bit weird sometimes, as though you’re using a sword—”

                “Yuuri.” He’s stopped walking, staring straight ahead. “Do you know him?”

                I follow his gaze. “Murata?”

                My friend is leaning on a lamppost just outside the school gates, arms folded. When he looks up, his glasses reflect the orange light of the setting sun, hiding his eyes for a moment. Then he holds up his hand in greeting, smiling. “Yo, Shibuya.”

                “How long have you been waiting?” I run up to him hurriedly. “You should have told me you were coming! Sorry to keep you so long.”

                “I don’t have your number, remember?” Murata doesn’t waste any time taking out his phone. “Here, let’s exchange addresses too.”

                “Right.” I pass him my phone, and quickly type my particulars into his. “Done.”

                “Thanks.” Murata takes his phone back from me, and his smile turns strange. “After all these years of being classmates, I finally have your number.”

               “Hehe, that’s true, huh?” I scratch my head and laugh awkwardly. For some reason, Wolfram is scowling beside me.

                Murata seems to not notice him. “Shibuya, I just wanted to apologize for that say. I shouldn’t have run off.” And to my horror, he actually bows down. “Sorry.”

                “Aaah, it’s fine!” I quickly help him up. All of a sudden, Murata grabs my arms, his grip surprisingly strong.

                “Tell me, Shibuya, did they hurt you?” His eyes don’t look like that of a coward who ran away from bullies. In fact, I get this strange sense that if I said yes, the bullies would be the ones to regret it. So I shake my head and wave my hands.

                “No, no, not at all!”

                “They tried to drown him in the toilet.”

                “They were just going to dunk me a bit!” I glare at Wolfram, who is definitely not helping.

                “And you were going to let them, you wimp!”

                “Would you stop calling me that!”

                “So, Shibuya,” Murata says, “who’s your pretty foreign friend?”

                “Finally acknowledging me, are you?” Wolfram hmphs.

                “Wolfram, this is Murata Ken. Murata, this is von Biera—Bielefa—”

                “It’s Biefeleld! von Bielefeld Wolfram!”  He says his name with the pride of an aristocrat, and jabs a finger in Murata’s suddenly pale face. “And you, don’t call me pretty.”

                “Huh?” I’m confused. “But you don’t have any problem with me calling you pretty?”

                “When did you ever do that!?”

                “I didn’t?” I laugh awkwardly. Well, that just slipped out. “I guess I just thought it a lot. You really are very pretty, Wolf.”

                “…Don’t call me pretty!”

                “You paused for two seconds there.” Murata had been silent since I said Wolfram’s name—maybe he was committing it to memory so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by forgetting like I did. But now he says teasingly, putting an arm around my shoulder, “You should just accept a compliment sometimes, y’know.”

                “I know, right!? That’s what I keep telling him. I bet I’m never gonna get any girls with him around.”

                “No way. You just have to be more forward, Shibuya. If you want them to like you,” Murata says sagely, “you have to look into their eyes and not at your feet. I’ll bet they’ll fall right in love with you if you do that.”

                I stare at him, he stares back, and we burst out laughing.

                “Yeah, right. Haha… It’s okay, Murata, I’ve accepted it.” I cross my arms and nod. “I don’t have luck with the ladies.”

                “One of these days, I’ll introduce you a good one.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, which is suddenly and surprisingly pulled away.

                “That’s it!” Wolfram, who we had completely forgotten about, explodes. “Yuuri, tell him!”

                “Tell him what?”

                “That I got to you first!”

                “Hah?” I look at him, confused. “But I’ve known Murata since middle school.”

                “Actually, we were also in kindergarten together, albeit different classes.”

                “Eeeeh!? No way! How do you even remember that!?”

              Murata pushes his glasses up his nose. “I know everything about you, including the color of your underwear today.”

                “Now you’re just kidding me!” I laugh, but am abruptly cut short when Wolfram puts himself between us again.

                “Yuuri, I said, no cheating on me!”

                “Oh, my, Shibuya, is there something you’re not telling me?”

                “It’s nothing,” I say exasperatedly. “There was just a misunderstanding yesterday because this guy is so clueless. People think he confessed to me, hahaha.”

                “So what if I did?” Wolfram’s tone is brusque. “I don’t take back my word. And I said I would take responsibility.”

                “He’s a romantic one, isn’t he?” Murata rubs his chin thoughtfully, and then wistfully, as though he wishes he had a beard. “I suppose I should congratulate you two, but I’m still not too sure what to think about my kindergarten friend having a boyfriend.”

                “He’s not my boyfriend!” I panic, flailing my arms about. “Wolfram, would you stop saying things that people will misunderstand!?”

                “They’re not misunderstanding anything! You’re the one who won’t take it seriously!”

                And with that, he storms away. For such a slight figure, he sure walks fast.

                “Wolf! Wait!”

                I try to run after him, but Murata pulls me back by the shoulder. “Shibuya, give him some time to cool off.”

                “But he’s new here!” I don’t know how to explain the uneasiness in my chest as I watch his back grow further. “What if he gets lost?”

                “He’s not a child. And besides, before you go after him, you should decide what you’re going to do about him.”

                “What I’m going to do?”

                “I think he might be serious about you.”

                I open my mouth to laugh, but no sound comes out. Instead, after a heavy pause, I croak, “No way.”

                He shrugs. “It’s not that uncommon where he comes from.”

                How do you know where he comes from? But that’s not the issue now. “I just met him a few days ago.”

                “What can I say? Love works in mysterious ways.”

                I fight back a scream of panic at the L-word. It feels like my head is spinning round and round in circles. I struggle to rewind all that’s happened these past few days, trying to find any proof or signs. “A-are you saying I actually got really confessed to? By a guy!?”

                “A very pretty one,” Murata pats my shoulder soothingly. “And I can’t say for sure, I’m just saying there’s a possibility.”

                A possibility… That’s more than I ever got. I shake my head. “Whatever, first we have to find him, make sure he’s safe.”

                “Shibuya…” Murata’s voice is a little exasperated. “Don’t you think you’re a little too worried? Or does that mean you care for him too?”

                Ignoring his words, I take off purposefully, but not too fast so Murata can’t keep up. Losing one of them is bad enough.

 

By some strange coincidence, we find Wolfram exactly where I first met him a few days ago, at the park but not inside the ladies’ toilet, of course.

                “Wol—”

                “Shh.” Murata pulls me back again, pointing at the delinquents surrounding Wolfram. There are more of them now, forming a menacing circle with their sticks. In the light of the sunset, their shadows tremble eerily on the ground. Standing tall among them, his back straight as an arrow, Wolfram looks particularly dignified.

                I can easily recognize the two delinquents who threatened Murata and then tried to flush me down the toilet, thanks to the bruises on their faces where they hit the ground after Wolfram took them down. They haven’t forgotten him yet, either. Touching the patches of blue and black gingerly, they turn to him with faces full of spite.

                “This will teach you to meddle with our business. Guys, let’s get him!”

                The other boys attack him with a meaningless fury. I can’t help but ask, “He didn’t do anything to them, why are they so mad at him?”

                Murata shrugs. “Maybe it’s that face. When men see another man that good-looking, sometimes they just want to kill him and get rid of a potential love rival.”

                “Eh? But I don’t think that way.”

                “That, my friend, is because you’re special. By the way, weren’t you so worried about him just now? Not going to do anything while your boyfriend is getting surrounded?”

                “He’s not my boyfriend,” I say automatically, keeping my eyes on Wolfram’s gracefully weaving form. “Besides, if I go in there now, I think I’ll just get in the way.”

                I was worried thinking he would get lost, but now that I’ve found him, it’s all fine. Just like baseball is my element, it seems that fighting is his. It’s probably part of his princely training or something. He even manages to grab and toss some of the delinquents bare-handed. I resist the urge to whistle. But still, there are a lot of them, and he’s still tired from baseball just now—Baseball?

                I look at my baseball bat, the first one I had bought myself, with all of my savings and then some. I had to do Shouri’s chores for a month back then to pay for the rest, but it was all worth it. The wood is still sturdy after all this time. I had changed the grip myself, so it fits my hand like a glove. This is a bat that will never slip from your fingers.

                I toss it to him without hesitation.

                “Wolf! Use this!”

                It sails through the air, tumbling end over end. At the sound of my voice, he raised his hand, and the bat falls into his palm as though attracted there by magnetism. When his fingers wrap around the hilt, I feel what little unease there was left in my heart settle and fade.

                “Just like the Lady in the Lake,” Murata comments at my stupidly pleased grin. Urk, at least I graduated from being the damsel-in-distress. We fall silent, watching Wolfram at work. As I thought, he really does use the bat like a sword. It’s a bad habit when he’s playing – I’ll have to help him fix that – but well, I guess it is useful now, if it stops him from getting hurt.

                Even so, he can’t avoid all the hits. I wince every time he takes a blow, no matter how glancing, from the delinquents. He does seem to be good at reducing the damage he takes, but still. I can’t help but wonder how easily his fair skin bruises.

                “And you say you’re not worried.” Murata is grinning, but there’s something other than amusement in his eyes. I’m about to ask him about it when an ominous glint catches my attention.

                “ _Wolfram! Watch out!_ ”

                There are only a couple of delinquents left standing, one of whom was the one that held my head down that day. And now, seeing that his side is losing, he pulls out a knife. Wolfram blocks it with my bat, and the blade sinks almost halfway through the wood with the force behind the delinquent’s swing.

                He really is trying to kill Wolfram!

                “After losing fair and square—No, even after losing two to one, you would come back for your petty revenge with even more dirty goons. And then, when even that fails, you challenge an honest fighter with cold steel, aiming to draw blood…”

                “Shibuya?” Murata looks worried, shaking his friend’s arm. “Shibuya, snap out of it!”

                “Unforgivable!”

                The voice echoes with an ancient power, exploding just as the bat snaps, and the blade cuts Wolfram’s skin. The sight of blood dyes everything with a feverish mist of red. And with a loud clang, the pipes leading into the public washrooms burst.

                “Lord von Bielefeld! Now!”

                Wasting no time, Wolfram shoves aside his disoriented opponent, sweeping his legs out from underneath him and knocking him out with a precise blow to the back of the neck. The rest of the boys, scared off by the sudden eruption of water, turn tail and run.

                “Yuuri!” Wolfram runs up to his companions, frowning. “Yuuri, snap out of it!”

                “W-Wolf…” I blink. “What ha—Wolf, you’re hurt!”

                “What, this?” He glances at the deep cut in his arm, flicking it so a few drops of blood splash onto the ground. “This is nothing—”

                “Hold still!” I grab his arm, careful to avoid touching the wound, and stare at it in horror. He’s hurt, he’s hurt—What do I do!? “Murata, call the ambulance! P-pain, fly away…”

                “What are you, a little child!? Let go!”

                “Fly away…”

                “Yuuri—Yuuri!”

                Eh? This is strange. Why do I feel so dizzy? No, I can’t faint, I need to get Wolf to the hospital—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahhhh I'm slowing down the days are catching up aaaaaaaaaa


	5. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With our hero out for the count, his friends are left to their own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts getting... angsty? Ah, who am I kidding, the angst was there from the start.

“He fainted.” Murata looks down at his unconscious friend and the panicking outsider coolly.

                “Why!? What happened!?” Wolfram doesn’t look anything like a trained soldier now, trying to hold Yuuri up and yet not quite knowing where to put his hands. “He didn’t get hurt, right!? I made sure none of them got to him!”

                “I should be asking you that. What did you do to him?”

                “Nothing!”

                “Okay, then, what did you give him?” Murata’s brain is racing. “Water, water… You gave him something to drink, didn’t you? Something from your world!”

                “My—How do you know?” The panic recedes from Wolfram’s mind just enough for the wariness to set in. “What do you know about me?”

                “I know you were sent here, _Lord von Bielefeld_ , to keep an eye on Shibuya Yuuri.” Murata’s black eyes flash dangerously behind his glasses. “That man… So, he can’t even trust the king he chose of his own accord. Hmph. He hasn’t changed at all.”

                “How do you know all this? You—” Wolfram’s eyes widen. “Double black—Daikenja!”

                “No!” Murata yells, losing his cool despite himself. “I’m not him! He died a long time ago, my name is Murata—”

                “Ken-chan!” A third voice cuts through the tension, and a face familiar to both of them jogs into the park. “Oh my my, what happened here? What a bloodbath!”

                “Doctor, please don’t sound so happy about teenage violence.” The appearance of the pediatrician he had known all his life calms Murata down somewhat, but the implication behind it causes his eyes to narrow once more. “Doctor, are you involved in this somehow?”

                Rodriguez looks between the two grim young faces, and chooses to talk to his most precious friend first. “Now listen here, Ken-chan,” he says with a forced smile. “Young master von Bielefeld here is on his own private mission, you understand? There’s no reason for you to get involved.”

                “There is if Shibuya is involved,” Murata tries to keep his voice level. “Look what he’s done to Shibuya already. If this goes on, Shibuya’s life would be in danger!”

                “Now, now, it’s not that bad. Remember, this is what Yuuri-kun was meant to be…”

                “No!” Murata shakes his head so hard his glasses rattle on his nose. “No. Something’s different, something’s not right—That man, he’s already wary. He sent his spies out to watch Shibuya even before Shibuya knows anything. Him!” Murata points at Wolfram fiercely. “He’s keeping secrets from Shibuya!”

                “So are you,” Wolfram says, but his face is pale.

                “I’m not approaching him just because someone else told me to,” Murata retorts coldly. “Can you imagine how he’ll react when he finds out? Just a few days, and already he trusts you completely.”

                “He’s far too trusting,” Wolframs murmurs, almost to himself. “It will cost him.”

                “It already has.” Murata brushes the hair away from Yuuri’s eyes, pressing their foreheads together. “He’s so cold. Of course he would be, that was his first time using maryoku.”

                “Maryoku? Here? How!?”

                “I should ask you!” Murata glares at the first pure-blooded mazoku he’s seen since… well, ever. All those others, he didn’t really know them. That wasn’t his life. He reminds himself every day to keep himself sane. This is reality. His friend is Shibuya Yuuri. “Shibuya had the potential, but it wasn’t supposed to be unlocked until he goes there and can use it properly. Now, thanks to you, everything is out of balance! Can _you_ teach him how to use his maryoku? He used it unconsciously just now, imagine if he does it again, and other people see him! Any of his friends, or family—He will lose his chance at a normal life forever.”

                All the worst case scenarios run through his mind. The young sage grips his fist tightly. He knows exactly how it feels to be _different_ , in a way no one else could possibly understand.

                Rodriguez’s expression has turned solemn as he surveys the unconscious crowd on the ground. “Do I have to use the memory-wipe glowstick? Ken-chan, put on your sunglasses.”

                “You don’t have anything like that. And no, thankfully it wasn’t that obvious. We can easily write this off as an accident.” Murata muses it over. For his first time using maryoku, and being so obviously out of control, it’s surprising that Yuuri didn’t make more of a scene. He is the one chosen and raised especially to be maou, after all—and having grown up here, his power shouldn’t be too limited. No, it’s more like, his power should be the greatest extent this world can manifest. And yet, that display was understated, to say the least.

                It’s almost as though—his power wasn’t completely unlocked somehow.

                “What did you give him?” Murata asks again, but softly this time, not expecting an answer. He doesn’t like Lord von Bielefeld, but he also knows the mazoku youth isn’t lying. He’s too immature to be that good an actor.

                “He’ll catch a cold like this.” Wolfram hoists Yuuri onto his back, as Murata watches on enviously. If only he was strong enough to do that.

                “Let the doctor do it, you’re a casualty too, remember?”

                “Me?”

                Wolfram follows Murata’s pointed gaze to the rip in his sleeve, and they both fall silent when they see the smooth pink skin.

 

It was turning dark, and Murata volunteered to take Yuuri home. Rodriguez and Wolfram watched him struggle down the last few meters to the Shibuya household, Yuuri’s arm thrown over his shoulder and his feet dragging on the ground.

                More than once, Wolfram stepped forward to help them, but Rodriguez held him back, shaking his head wordlessly. This was what they had agreed on.

                Although all three of them knew that the Shibuya family was aware about Yuuri’s future, somehow none of them wanted to break the news to Yuuri’s parents and the brother who loved him so much. No one wanted to tell them that it had all begun.

                Afterwards, Wolfram remains quiet throughout their convenience store dinner.

                “Sorry if it’s not up to your standards, Your Excellency,” Rodriguez says as he finishes his portion. “But your sudden arrival has got us all out of whack, I can tell you that. So many favours to ask, so many strings to pull.” He drains his can of cheap beer. “So many secrets to keep.”

                Wolfram looks at him sideways. “I see I’m not very welcome here.”

                “No, no, don’t take it personally.” Rodriguez takes off his glasses and breathes into the lens. “It’s nothing to do with you, per se. I suppose it’s just that people have gotten rather attached to Yuuri-kun over the years, especially my Ken-chan, you see.”

                “I don’t understand. Weren’t all the arrangements made before he was even born?”

                “Oh, yes.” Rodriguez smiles at the memory. “What fun times. Of course, it was all prepared. We are all prepared. Don’t mind us, you know how parents are. When it’s time for the young uns to leave the nest, we push them off with one hand and wipe our tears with the other.”

                Having polished his glasses on his shirt, he puts them back on, and his gaze flashes like flint for a second. “However, I can’t say I like how the other side is doing things. They asked us for a king raised the way only we can. And now, sending another ambassador to ‘assess’ him—We made people, not products.”

                He stands and clears the table, piling all the plates onto one arm as he smiles without humor, “If he’s not up to your standards, we don’t mind keeping him. Just sayin’.”

                And he turns away, walking into the kitchen and leaving Wolfram with his thoughts.

                 That night, after lodging his report with the priestess, Wolfram lies awake on his futon. He knew the Earth people had expected him to be uncomfortable on such a thin mattress, but he was a soldier. He was trained to live on the bare minimum. He should have been used to it by now, but for some reason, he just can’t fall asleep.

                After some tossing and turning, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. His room is small and cramped— They said it was so that he stayed inconspicuous, but he wonders if they just wanted to save on the costs by renting the cheapest place possible for him. His smile to himself is somewhat bitter. This experience so far is quite different from what Conrart said.

                He flushes slightly when he remembers his words on the first day, shortly upon arriving on Earth. Perhaps he can understand why they don’t like him all that much. These Earth mazoku… They look and feel exactly like humans. Most of them don’t even have maryoku. And yet, Wolfram is beginning to regret looking down on them as he did in the beginning.

                They may not have majutsu, but their power works in other ways.

                And the future king… Yuuri Shibuya.

                He is a pacifist. He doesn’t fight when he’s beaten, yet he has the nerve to lecture a stranger. Those large black eyes looking directly at him are pure, admiring but not revering, admonishing but not discriminating. There is envy, sometimes, but he doesn’t spite. He has a low opinion of himself – Wolfram shakes his head at that, unaware of the small smile on his lips. And yet, he is a natural leader. He walks forth, without confidence but also without hesitation, and doesn’t notice the people following behind him. No, he does notice them.

                Wolfram holds up his arm. And yesterday, too, when he tried to block a ball with his body.

                Yuuri notices the people behind him, and stands strong, to protect them.

                The wimp. That’s all good when you can protect yourself, but if you do that as king, you’ll just get hurt and cause more trouble for everyone else. Wolfram turns on his side, suddenly recalling the situation back home right now. It’s a mess.

                He closes his eyes.

                Maybe it would be a good idea for Yuuri to stay here a bit longer.

 

Murata had fallen asleep with his head on Yuuri’s bed.

                In his dreams, he sees Shibuya Yuuri as maou, but he sees someone else too. The person that spoke when Yuuri used his powers, someone far older and stronger. Yuuri had past lives, too, he knew. What if these awakened? In his dreams, he sees Shibuya Yuuri walk further and further away into the darkness, towards a place where he cannot reach.

                “—Shibuya!”

               He jolts awake. Sweat is dripping down his forehead, his breathing is still too fast, and his heart pounds in his ears. The movement of light draws his gaze to his reflection in the bedroom mirror. His face looks terrible.

                Murata laughs hollowly at himself. Look at him. This won’t do, he needs to pick himself up. Now, more than ever, he needs to protect Shibuya.

                That beautiful blonde image flashes in his mind. Young Lord von Bielefeld Wolfram… what is his motive? What does he really want with Shibuya? That face… Why does it look so similar to that man’s? Murata can almost see the invisible influence of that man behind the mazoku boy. No matter what, he doesn’t like what’s happening. It gives him a bad feeling.

                “…Mmh…”

                “Are you awake?” When Yuuri opens his eyes, Murata’s smile is familiar, exasperated and slightly amused. “Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty. Your mother said that if you don’t eat your dinner by nine she’ll feed it to your dogs.”

                “Don’t let her,” Yuuri groans. “She always puts too much sugar, it’s bad for them.”

                “Hmm, the sweetness of her personality must have leaked into her cooking, too. Did you know she openly invited me for dinner anytime? It makes me feel like taking advantage of her kindness.”

                “She’s not joking, you know. She just loves having guests over.”

                “Don’t mind if I do, then.” Murata sits on his bed, facing the door. “Feeling better?”

                “Not really… Ow, my head… What happened? I don’t—Ah, Wolf!” Yuuri almost jumps out of bed, but his knees buckle underneath him and he nearly collapses instead. “Eh? That’s strange, why do I feel so weak…?”

                “You ran into the melee when you saw that punk pull out a knife,” Murata says honestly. “Maybe you got hit over the head somewhere.”

                “Huh? That’s so lame… Ah, is Wolfram okay? I remember seeing blood…” Yuuri’s eyes turn slightly red. Murata observes him with mixed feelings.

                “He’s fine, he got treatment as soon as possible. Trust me, there won’t even be a scar tomorrow.”

                “Is that so?” Yuuri finally lies back down quietly, looking relieved. “That’s good to hear, thank goodness.”

                You trust people too easily… Murata adjusts his glasses so Yuuri can’t see his expression right now. By the time he takes his hand away, he has already arranged his features into an easygoing smile. “That sure was heroic of you, huh? It’s definitely a story for the school papers.”

                “Nah, it’s nothing that great. I just wasn’t thinking, haha.” Only then does he seem to realize he’s at home. “Did you carry me back all by yourself? Sorry for causing you trouble again.”

                “It’s the least I could do.” Murata pauses for a moment, and boldly decides to do the right thing. “Actually, he was the one who carried you most of the way. He just couldn’t stay for dinner, so he left me here instead.”

                “I see.” Yuuri places his hands underneath his pillow, staring at the ceiling. “Never mind, I’ll ask him over for dinner some other time. Since he’s here by himself, it would be good for him to have warm home-cooked meals once in a while.”

                I rarely have those myself. But Murata doesn’t say that out loud. “You really are lucky, Shibuya.”

                “Hehe, I know right? That’s why I must share this happiness with other people if I can, that’s what my mom always said.”

                And this is why you’ll make a great king. For the first time that night, Murata feels like he can smile from the bottom of his heart. That country—no, that world would benefit a lot from having him as maou. Maybe they were being selfish by trying to hold him back.

                But still, Murata can’t stop that uneasy feeling in his heart. And then there was that other mystery.

                “By the way, Shibuya, did Bi—did Wolfram give you anything? Like a drink or something?”

                “A drink?” Yuuri looks perplexed. “What, from Germany? No, nothing like that. Why are you asking?”

                “How should I put this…? Do you believe in a sixth sense, Shibuya?”

                “Huh? Like ‘I can see dead people’?”

                “Not quite. It’s more like… an aura… or something.” Murata thinks some more, and decides to wing it. “You sorta… feel… more like him now.” Less human. “Did you exchange something?” And then, remembering the burst pipes, he instinctively adds, “Fluids of some sort?”

                “F-fluids!?” Yuuri yelps, but his sound of indignation is abruptly cut short. Suddenly, to Murata’s horror, his friend turns bright red, and his fingers wander to his lips. “C-could it be—”

                “I-it’s all over…” Murata holds his head. “Shibuya, I didn’t think that you would--”

                “Wait, Murata! It’s not what you’re thinking, really!”

                “No, I shouldn’t judge, I should be happy for you… I’m really happy for you, Shibuya…”

                “No----! And that face, that face isn’t convincing at all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So somehow I'm really slowing down with the new chapters I got stocked up in the ether... and still I have no idea how long this will actually end up. Fifteen chapters, maybe...? //what is this suicide mission
> 
> Also... has no one figured out the song source for the title? It plays in my head every time X'D


	6. Moving Forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when he's not king, he's still a leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of a new arc...?

It takes me an hour to convince Murata that it was a misunderstanding. And even so, I feel as though my old friend doesn’t look at me in quite the same way anymore.

                “Why do I already feel like I lost you? Ahh, I knew I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

               “What do you mean, lost me?” I wave my hands frantically. “I promise, we’ll always be friends. Even if I get married, that will never change!”

                “You’re already thinking about marriage, huh… Wolfram sure is a lucky guy.”

                “Nooooo--!”

                I couldn’t wash this misconception off even if I bathe in bleach.

               

The next day before class, I don’t get any sympathy from Wolfram either.

                “So? Who cares what other people think?” He leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

                Only someone with your confidence can say that so easily. I have to admit, I’m a little envious. I move my chair closer to his. From this distance, his radiance is even more obvious, it’s almost as though he sparkles.

                “W-what are you coming so close for?”

                “No reason.” I try to look away casually, but my eyes keep following him. “So, are you really okay?”

                Wolfram sighs heavily, rolling down his sleeve and holding up his arm. “See? Not even a scar.”

                I can’t hold it in anymore. Grabbing his hand, I pull his arm up to my face, staring at it intently. All I see is smooth fair skin, but somehow I still can’t get rid of the uneasiness inside my heart. The tightening in my chest that hadn’t gone away since yesterday moves my fingers automatically. I need to feel it with my own hands—feel that he’s safe.

                “H-h-hey! Stop it! That—that tickles!”

                His suppressed giggling breaks me out of my trance. Glancing up at him, I see tears in his eyes, laughter in his cheeks and his face flushed completely red. It’s a mesmerizing sight. When he catches his breath and finds me staring, he quickly straightens his expression. But he can’t quite hide the embarrassment, and the heat doesn’t recede from his cheeks fast enough.

                “Yuuri…” He clears his throat and gestures with his eyes. Only then do I realize I’m still holding his hand.

                “S-Sorry.” I let go hastily, and still can’t help asking, “Does it hurt anywhere else? I remember you got hit more than—”

                He rolls his eyes. “Look, Yuuri, you might not know this, but back where I came from, I was trained since young to be a soldier. Those amateurs are nothing compared to what my teacher used to do to me.” His expression softens. “It’s like you said about baseball. I’m used to taking a few hits.”

                True, that is what I said. But the lump is still there in my throat, and I can’t swallow it away no matter what I do.

                “Geez, you’re such a wimp. If you get so upset whenever anyone around you gets hurt, how are you ever going to become—Yuuri?”

                I keep my head down, averting my gaze.

                “Yuuri, look at me.”

                I take a deep breath, force down the emotions, and finally raise my head with a smile. “Yeah?”

                “…Don’t smile like that, it hurts.”

                He stands up suddenly, grabbing my wrist. We pass the homeroom teacher on our way out of the classroom, and he just yells out, “We’re going to the infirmary!”

                …I really need to work on his manners.

                But at least he wasn’t lying to the teacher. I had taken him on a short tour around the school on his first day, and he seems to remember some places from the time he wandered around looking for me too. Throwing open the door to the nurse’s room roughly, he drags me inside and then closes the door behind us.

                The infirmary is empty—maybe the school nurse went out for a while. Just as I’m about to ask why Wolfram brought us here, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

                “W-wha--!?” My voice comes out like a squeak. W-what is he doing!? We’re in school! We’re underage! No, wait, what am _I_ thinking!? Murata’s words from yesterday echo in my head.

                _“I think he might be serious about you_.”

                All the blood rushes to my face. My ears feel like they’re going to burn right off. Like a little girl on her first trip to the beach, I cover my eyes with my hands—and yet I can’t stop myself from peeking through my fingers.

                He has taken off his blue uniform, and is pulling off his undershirt as well. His arms are toned and sleek, his abs well-defined but not bulging, his chest—I squeeze my eyes shut. No no no, what are you doing? There’s nothing wrong with looking at a guy’s chest. We’re both guys. It’s just the way he takes off his clothes, it somehow reminds me of those teasing scenes I catch Shouri watching in his room. This prince, somehow he shines brighter than those 2D girls on Shouri’s screen.

                “What are you hiding for, wimp? Didn’t you want to see?”

                “I never—” I say, instinctively opening my eyes. My protests die in my throat after that. There are patches of black and blue on his chest and his shoulders, and some on his arms as well. “…Turn around.”

                He obeys with a grimace.

                There are some on his back too.

                I walk up to him, dazedly, and put my hand on the small of his back.

                “Does it hurt?”

                “What do you take me for? I’m not a wimp like you.”

                “Does it hurt?”

                “No.”

                I muster up all my courage and press down.

                “What, is that all you got?” There’s an edge of laughter in Wolfram’s voice. “I press buttons harder than that.”

                He’s laughing at me, and yet all I can feel is relief. Looks like it really doesn’t hurt.

                “My skin bruises damn easily, even after all these years of training,” Wolfram says rather vehemently. “I keep telling people I’m fine, but Mother makes a fuss, and then people think I’m weak—”

                “You’re not weak,” I interrupt him. It feels as though I’ll never forget his flying, fighting form from yesterday. “Not at all.”

                “Then stop worrying about me.” He turns around to face me again, and presses my hand to his chest. “See? I’m still alive, this heart is going as strongly as ever. Yuuri, you can’t afford to get this upset when someone around you gets hurt. Do you understand? You have to steel up your heart as well.”

                There is an unexpected urgency in his voice, and in his deep emerald gaze. He really wants me to listen to him, and toughen myself up. But I—I—

                “I don’t understand.”

                The tears fall from my eyes unbidden. After a sleepless night and an entire morning of incessant worrying and forced smiles, I finally can’t hold it in anymore.

                “Why—? Because of me, you—”

                “Yuuri! That has nothing to do with you.”

                _“That’s not true!_ ” My voice comes out as a yell. “The first time you fought them to save me! And then they came back to take revenge on you and I didn’t do anything to help you!”

                “There wasn’t anything you could do!”

                “ _Exactly!”_ My whole body trembles with the word, with the fear that just caught up, that never left me. That knife—When I saw that knife— “I thought you were going to die.”

                “I’m not that weak.”

                “That’s not the point.” I shake my head. “This isn’t—this isn’t two hundred years ago, or a warring country. We’re in Japan. We’re at peace. And yet—and yet these things still happen.” The expression on my face twists into a bitter smile. “Of course it does. I hear it on the news all the time. Only, I don’t see it in real life, see? So I pretend not to listen, I close my eyes and I walk away.”

                That day, I wanted to walk away. If it wasn’t Murata, I would have. But Wolfram—Wolfram didn’t know who I was, and helped me anyway.

                 And in return, I got him hurt.

               “Don’t smile like that.” He lifts my chin fiercely, forcing me to face him. “I said, don’t force yourself to smile like that, it hurts!”

                Who? Who does it hurt? I want to ask, but my tongue can’t form the words.

                His eyes are blazing, but with what I can’t tell. “You’re too idealistic,” he growls. “This is reality, so what are you going to do about it? Crying won’t get you anywhere. That’s why I call you a wimp.”

                I deserve that, don’t I? I close my eyes to try and stem the tears, but his shadow beyond my eyelids seems to come closer—

                The door rattles open, and the school nurse screams.

 

I’m tired of explaining. If the nurse starts going around telling everyone Wolf and I are messing around in the infirmary, I’ll just close my mouth and accept it, as long as it doesn’t get me suspended.

                Thankfully Wolfram’s body speaks for itself. Ah, that came out sounding wrong. What I mean is, the nurse took one look at Wolfram’s bruised skin and figured it out herself. We got off with a warning about fighting, which, come to think of it, is as likely to get us suspended as fooling around in school.

                I don’t get it. Why does everyone always jump to this conclusion? We’re both guys!

                But somehow I don’t feel like saying that aloud to Wolf.

                At least I can feel at ease at the Baseball Club. The seniors there don’t really know about the rumours, or if they do, they don’t care. The one who recruited us, Tajima-senpai, is really passionate for baseball but doesn’t really pay attention to much else, which is why his friends are always bugging him to study. Of the other two, Ookawa-senpai is a great runner, but he doesn’t like competing in the track team, so he joined Tajima-senpai here instead. Their other friend, Kitamura-senpai, is a quiet kind of guy who doesn’t really play sports, but even he smiles the brightest when they’re practicing their throws.

                They’re not very good, but they really like playing baseball. It’s enough to keep me here during the afternoons, and then I go to my grasslot team to continue in the evening.

              “You’re the biggest baseball idiot of them all,” Wolfram says, and then he adds viciously, “That’s not a compliment!”

                “Hehe, isn’t it?” I scratch my head, feeling strangely pleased. Somehow it’s nice to have him acknowledge what I like, as though I’m showing him the truest part of me, and he’s seeing it clearly.

                Then the Student Council came.

               

“We need to participate in games!?”

                Tajima-senpai is practically yelling at the girl from the Student Council. “But how can we, we only have five members!”

                The girl shirks away slightly, so her companion takes over. He’s a stern-looking senior wearing glasses, and in my heart I’m shouting that Murata looks a lot better with glasses. As though reading my mind, the glasses guy glances at me before dismissing me as another junior, turning back to my seniors, “Nevertheless, a club can’t exist without activities.”

                “We practice here every day!”

                “I know.” The glasses guy’s expression falters slightly, and I feel just a little bit less angry at him. Just a little. “Look, it’s school policy, so I can’t help you.” He hesitates. “There’s still some time until the national qualifiers. No matter what, the school has to send a team. No one will blame you even if you lose in the first round, but not going at all is unacceptable. Every school with a registered baseball club has to join, do you get it? You have until the qualifiers. If you can’t join, the school has no choice but to deregister you completely.”

                I can see the despair on my seniors’ faces. It’s like looking into a mirror, or looking into the past. A year or two have passed, but I still remember—that was the expression on my face when I knew I could never play baseball with my friends ever again.

                “We’ll do it.”

                I step out to face the Student Council members directly.

                “We’ll find eleven people, and we’ll join the qualifiers.” I take a deep breath. “We’ll even play to win. Is that enough?”

                “Shibuya!” Tajima-senpai is extremely agitated. Next to me, Wolfram raises his eyebrows.

                “And who are you?” The glasses guy looks amused. “Are you a first year?”

                I nod, trying to keep my knees from shaking. “Shibuya Yuuri, Class 1-E.”

                “Big words for a freshman. Why should I believe you?”

                “Keiji!” Tajima-senpai protests. So he knows this glasses Student Council guy? In that case, couldn’t he make some exceptions for us? He must know how important this club is to Senpai.

                “Ahem, Yuuri.” Wolfram spies the wavering in my resolve, and nudges me in the side. Ow, are you trying to give me matching bruises? Not that I mind… After all, I owe you.

                I owe you to stand up straight.

                “You should believe me, because it is my duty as Baseball Club Captain.”

                I hold my head high, determination burning in my chest.

                “I will lead us to victory!”

*

The man in the glass room listens to his priestess’ excited report with his chin propped in his hands.

                Glowing reviews, huh? That boy Wolfram is careful not to sound too biased, but he can tell from the words alone. Wolfram is already starting to like his new king.

                That won’t do. The reason he sent Wolfram over instead of having Yuuri come here was to set clear boundaries. No matter what, his children must remember that their first loyalties lie with him. He chose that boy as a potential king, but without his permission, that boy would never even reach this world, much less take the throne.

                He drums his fingers on the armrest. Regardless, he needs a king. An obedient but wise one. It won’t do to have a fool embarrass Shin Makoku in front of the other countries.

                “Your Majesty Shinou,” Ulrike says hesitatingly. “That man is here to see you again.”

                “Again?” One of the other priestesses sighs. “He really doesn’t give up, does he? He must care a lot.”

                He does. Shinou considers it further. Even from his special place, he can hear the banging and yelling on the shrine door. “Very well, let him in.”

                “Your Majesty!?”

                “And call that other one.” Already Shinou’s mind is calculating the possibilities. “We shall send another observer to observe our observer, but he too shall be observed.”

                “…Huh?”

                This time, he won’t make the same mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as the title suggests, things will begin to change as we move forward ;)


	7. Surprise Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if dealing with one of them wasn't enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it too late to mention that this is actually Chapter 6?

So, to make a proper team, first we must find a manager.

                “Is that really it, Shibuya?”

                Okay, so maybe not. Maybe we should start with a coach.

                “Hmm, I’m still not too sure that’s it.”

                I sigh, slumping over the table. “I know, I know. But finding a manager would be easier than finding six more players. So many girls have already confessed Wolfram.”

                “Speaking of that guy, where is he?” Murata peers over his milkshake, surveying as though expecting the prince to pop up at any moment. “Hasn’t he been sticking to you like glue?”

                “No way, you’re exaggerating things.” I take a bite of the grilled chicken burger. Sometimes it’s not too bad to indulge in a little junk food, you have to train your stomach too. “He said he had something to do, visitors from home or something.”

                “Visitors, huh? I wonder what they’re like.” Murata’s glasses fogs up from the heat of the freshly-made fries. Does it even work that way? “Anyway, I’m surprised girls are still approaching him. Didn’t you guys make it clear you’re taken?”

                “Yeah, yeah,” I wave him away. “I’m not sure what Wolf says, but whenever a girl is interested in him, she’ll come ask me first. Ah, it’s kind of sad, I never had so many girls talk to me before… and yet when I tell them I’m still single they just run off happily to confess to someone else instead.”

                “Oh? And how does that make you feel?”

                “Didn’t I just tell you? It’s kinda depressing.” I chew on my straw restlessly. This slightly constricted feeling in my chest, it bothers me. I know it’s jealousy—Wolfram sure has luck with the ladies. Is it all because of that pretty face? I can’t help that. Or is it his natural charisma? Dammit, I don’t have that either.

                I shake my head. No, I shouldn’t dwell on it. I should be happy that my friend has a good love life.

                “Did he accept any of them, though?”

                “Huh?”

                “The girls. Did he ever say yes underneath the cherry tree?”

                “Of course not.” I think about it absently. “He never accepts confessions there anymore, I bet he’s traumatized. If the girls are shy, he’ll follow them to the roof or a corridor, but never the tree.”

                “And did he say yes to any of them there?”

                “Hmm… I don’t think so.” Come to think of it, he would just come back to class within five minutes, and take his seat behind me as though nothing happened.

                “What, you don’t know? Didn’t you ever ask?”

                “Huh? Why should I? It’s between him and her, right?”

                Murata looks at me, and sighs exasperatedly. “Somehow… I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to feel sorry for him.”

                “Eh?”

                “Never mind. Back to your team. Forget about getting a manager, I’ll telling you as a friend, it’s not worth selling that guy out to a girl he doesn’t like.”

                “U-urk! I never said anything about sell—”

                “But that’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? A pretty girl manager would bring in more boys as possible players, and a pretty boy player will bring in the pretty girl manager.”

                “…It’s not necessarily selling him out…”

                “That’s a decent plan, if a bit cruel on Bielefeld. But what about a coach? Why would you get a coach _before_ you had enough players?”

                “Well, if we had a good coach and a proper training regime, other people might be more motivated to join, right?”

                “And where are you going to get this coach?”

                “…There are the guys at my grasslot team…”

                “I’m sorry to say this, Shibuya, but if they’re in your grasslot team I’m not very convinced that they’re qualified to coach anyone else. Plus, aren’t they mostly working adults? I’m pretty sure evenings at the grasslot are all they have time for as it is, don’t take them away from their families anymore!”

                I shrink even deeper into my seat. “So what should I do? We don’t have a manager, we don’t have a coach, we barely have a place to practice, and we certainly don’t have any money! What else could we use to attract more players? We got nothing.”

                “Oh, that’s not true.”

                Murata puts his hands on my shoulders, his expression solemn but amusement glinting in his eyes.

                “We got you.”

 

“C-come one, c-come all, join the Baseball Club! H-hey, do you want to join the Baseball Club?”

                The boy pushes away the flyers I try to hold out to him. It’s my one hundred and thirteenth time getting rejected today.

                “Yuuri.”

                “Ah, would you like to—”

                Wolfram grabs my wrist, forcing me to drop the flyer into his hand. He then stares at it with a mixture of contempt and horror. “What is this colorful monstrosity? And _what are you wearing_?”

                I hold my back straight, and don’t even flinch when the corner of the sandwich board clips my legs. “I’m recruiting more people for the club, of course. I said I’m going to save the club, and I will.”

                “Take that thing off right now!” Wolfram tries to wrestle it off of me. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

                I feel my face burning up. “No.”

                “Stop acting like a clown!”

                “No.” I bend down to pick up the flyer he dropped. “I stayed up all night making this. I know it’s not much—I know it’s stupid. I know I’m stupid. But this is all I can do, don’t you see? Don’t you dare look down on my determination!”

                Wolfram seems stunned by my outburst, and I straighten up again, still trying to catch my breath. For a moment the silence stretches on between us, then Wolfram holds his head with a sigh.

                “What do you mean, that’s all you can do? You have me, don’t you? You should have asked me to help you.”

                Now my lower lip won’t stop trembling as well. Ahh, I’m such a wimp.

                “…You were busy.”

                “Oh, yeah.” Wolfram grimaces. “I had to entertain some people.” And he gestures behind him.

                Only then do I notice the two people behind him. Both are tall, almost ridiculously handsome, and probably somewhere in their twenties. I can’t really tell with foreigners. One has brown hair and these brown eyes that seem to sparkle with a sliver light as he stares at me. I can’t help but notice the scar over his right eyebrow.

                Somehow, he looks… a little familiar.

                “So you’re the one Wolfram’s been talking about, huh?” The other one speaks up first, her voice rather deep for a lady. Her biceps are really big for a lady too, and her thighs really defined, her abs showing even through the lace—

                Hmm, I don’t want to discriminate, but despite the gothic Lolita get-up, isn’t this… a guy?

                Wolfram coughs into his fist to stop me from staring. “Ignore Gurrier, it’s just a hobby of his.”

                I thought so too. And I really don’t mean to discriminate, Gurrier-san, but you’re going to get thrown out of the school. See, the security is on their way here already. Look, that guard is even talking into his walkie-talkie.

                “Gurrier, let’s go.”

              The other man pulls his companion by the considerably thick arm. “Wolfram, we’ll come see you after school ends.”

                Wolfram nods tersely and doesn’t say anything else. Somehow it seems to me that he isn’t too fond of the brown-haired man. The atmosphere between them gets slightly awkward, and then the man clears his throat, looking suddenly at me.

                “Yuuri… It’s good to finally meet you for the first time.”

                By the time I find my voice, he and Gurrier are already running past the school gates, chased by the security guards.

                “…but this is not the first time, is it?”

                “Hmm? Did you say something?” Wolfram asks.

                “It’s nothing.” I grip my chest, watching his back as he disappears into the distance. What a strange feeling this is. It’s nostalgic, a bit painful, and somewhat relieved—as though I just met someone I didn’t know I had been missing. “Wolfram, who is he?”

                I’m not talking about Gurrier, and he knows it. The frown on Wolfram’s brow deepens.

                “That’s Conrart Weller.” He chews his lip, and decides to say it after all. “My brother.”

 

These brothers really look nothing alike.

                I find myself staring at Wolfram, trying to find a glimpse of his brothers in his features. As far as I remember, the oldest brother in the picture doesn’t look much like Wolf, either, except maybe in the frown lines. And the kind-looking second brother has none of that, either.

                “You spoke to him one time,” Wolfram says, strangely annoyed. “How do you know what he’s like?”

                “Hmm, I don’t know. He just seems kind of familiar, y’know?” I play with my pencil, twirling it around my fingers. “He said he’s coming to meet you after class, right? Do you think you could introduce us?”

                “Why should I?”

                The anger in his voice takes me by surprise, and I almost drop the pencil. His face is red with fury and his eyes burning. And somehow… that makes me slightly happy.

                “What are you smiling about? Answer me!”

                “I just want to know your brother, that’s all.” I still can’t stop smiling. “I want to know the man who raised you, Wolfram.”

                “He didn’t--!”

                “Didn’t he? You said your ‘brothers’ raised you.”

                His beautiful eyes narrow dangerously. “Why do you remember that so clearly? I don’t see you being that clever with schoolwork or anything else.”

                His gaze looks at the sandwich board I’m still wearing pointedly, but I’m too pleased to be offended now. What a cute little tsundere younger brother.

                When the last class ends, Wolfram doesn’t follow me to practice. Instead, he heads for the school gate resolutely. I just know he’s going to tell his brother weird things, probably about me, but I have to attend practice after what happened with the Student Council. If possible, I wouldn’t want Wolfram to skip either. Right now, I just don’t feel right leaving the club empty. If we want to convince the Student Council, first we need to show them our dedication.

               The seniors have been asking around, especially among the ex-club members who quit for some reason or another. The problem is that most of them are third years too, and so they’re reluctant to join any more activities that could distract them from their studies.

                Of course, a first year as team captain doesn’t do anything to stop their unease either.

                I clench my fist tightly as the seniors tell me all the excuses they got when they asked. Tajima-senpai is especially frustrated, because these were the people he let go last time. I wonder if he begged them last time like he’s doing now. Maybe he’s feeling a sense of déjà vu, seeing the same backs walking away from him.

                Suddenly a silver-flecked gaze appears in my mind.

                “…Shibuya?”

                I catch myself, hiding the disorientation in my heart. “Sorry, what?”

                Ookawa-senpai’s smile is somewhat clipped, and I immediately feel guilty. After everything I said, I have to take up responsibility as leader. This isn’t the time to be thinking about anyone or anything else.

                We spend a few more hours discussing tactics and strategies, not really getting anywhere. It’s the first time since I joined this Baseball Club that we didn’t play any baseball at all.

                By five in the afternoon, the seniors pack up their bags and get up with heavy expressions. I hesitate, steel myself, and say,

                “Let’s practice our throws for ten—no, fifteen minutes. Even if there are only the four of us, we cannot afford to let ourselves rust.”

                It’s late, we’re all tired and unhappy, the seniors have a test tomorrow.

                That’s why, this is the best time to play baseball.

 

In the end, we stay until six. The sun has all but set by the time I step out of the school gates.

                “That took you long enough.” Today it’s Wolfram waiting for me outside. “Did you guys figure something out? The other three seemed to be in a better mood than just now.”

                “No, not really. We worked up a good sweat, though.”

                “That’s not going to solve any of your problems!” Wolfram says exasperatedly, but someone stops him before he can start lecturing me again.

                “Wolfram, he looks tired.” As I thought, those brown eyes with silver are extremely kind. “You’re all wet, did you forget your towel? If you don’t dry off quickly, you’ll fall sick.”

                I shake the water out of my hair. Kitamura-senpai didn’t think we were going to practice, so he hadn’t brought his towel. “It’s alright, I’m going straight home anyway.” I look at the three of them curiously. “What are you doing back at the school this late?”

                The man named Gurrier elbows Wolfram good-naturedly, but it looks rather painful to me. Maybe it’s because he changed into normal men’s clothes, so he looks even bigger and more intimidating than before. When he catches me staring, he smiles at me with white teeth and sharp blue eyes that have no warmth. The eye contact lasts a second too long, but before I can feel too awkward about it Wolfram steps between us.

                “Yuuri…” I’ve never seen Wolfram look so uncomfortable before. “I—We have a favor to ask you.”

                We? My gaze drifts to the second brother again, and his smile is much friendlier.

                “What Wolfram wants to say, is that since my companion and I came here on such short notice, it seems we don’t have any accommodation arranged. If it’s not too much trouble, could we possibly follow you home tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if anyone expected Josak to be the other person? There's a reason he's here instead of Gwen, this isn't just my personal bias~ Well, not all of it anyway...


	8. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they meet the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer is bugging out so bad, I'm scared... T^T

It turns out the man with the kind eyes is my father.

                Well, my godfather, anyway.

                “And! And, when we were in the taxi, Conrad here—you don’t mind me calling you Conrad, do you?”

                “Oh, I don’t mind at all, do continue.”

                “So Conrad told me that where he comes from, July is called Yuri! Isn’t that romantic?”

                So now I know who to blame for all those Harajuku Fuuri jokes. No, wait, that’s still my parents’ fault! Why did they have to choose those kanji?

                “To think, that your younger brother is our Yuu-chan’s classmate! Fate sure is a strange thing, isn’t it? Of course you’re welcome to stay the night—In fact, we have an empty guest room, why don’t you just move in?”

                “Now hold on a second!” My old man interrupts before I’m forced to. “Isn’t this a bit sudden? We don’t even know how long they’re here for!”

                He looks at Conrad suspiciously, and the second brother just smiles back. Uwaa— Even I feel blinded by that smile. My mother’s eyes are practically heart shapes by now, no wonder my old man feels threatened.

                “You little…” My old man grinds his teeth, his lips torn between a grin and a grimace. “Sixteen years! How do you look exactly the same!?” He throws his arm around Conrad’s shoulder and musses up his hair. Somehow it’s not as strange as I thought it would be, watching my parents act like teenagers around an old friend. Or maybe they’re just that immature? Not that I have any right to say anything.

                Over on the other side of the living room, Shouri is talking to Josak Gurrier about the intricacies of sailor uniforms. The orange-haired bodybuilder seems to think sailor uniforms came from actual sailors, and not just sailors, but pirates. He even says it’s scary that those cute Japanese high school girls are wearing the armor of ocean outlaws, as though they’re all part of a secret army in disguise.

                “But y’know, it’s also kind of exciting~”

                Shouri nods enthusiastically, and they go on talking about the length of the skirt, the amount of thigh exposed between the hem and the knee-high socks, as well as the economic and possible defensive properties of both. I wonder what Shouri will think if I told him Gurrier probably wears that outfit himself for fun?

                “Well, at least they seem to be getting along.” I settle back in my sofa, and turn to the person sitting quietly beside me. “So, what do you think of my family?”

                Wolfram has been uncharacteristically silent since we entered my house. I had braced myself for all sorts of comments about how small or shabby my place is—this stubborn prince doesn’t mince his words about the state of my clothes or such. But he barely even raised his eyes when my parents greeted him, and even bowed as thanks when my mom asked him how the bento was.

                “…Is it really okay?”

                He doesn’t want to spell it out, but I know what he’s talking about. I wave him off as I reply, “Don’t worry about it. She likes cooking, and we can afford that little bit extra food. If you really feel bad about it, just tell her how good her food is. That’ll make her day.”

                “Who said I felt bad about anything?” But during dinner that night, he solemnly lists out everything good about the meal, until my mom is fully red in the face and giggling like a schoolgirl in a pirate uniform.

               

“Sorry if my family is particularly rowdy.” For some reason, I feel the need to apologize as I walk into the guest room with sheets and pillows.

                “No, I enjoy it this way.” Conrad flashes me one of his brilliant smiles, and then averts his eyes. I knew I wasn’t imagining things.

                “…You know, I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you.” I sit down on the double bed and pull up my knees. “Is it because I met you before I was born?”

                He laughs, and the sound is like a warm chocolate drink for my ears. “That makes no sense. And I saw you when you were a baby too, remember?”

                “No, of course I don’t remember!” I laugh too, even though a part of me thinks I do remember. “Say—uhm—”

                “You can just call me Conrad.”

                “Really?” I scratch my head. “But you’re my godfather, and you’re my parents’ age…”

                “Don’t make me sound so old,” he chuckles. “Wolfram calls me by name too, and you’re his friend. Besides, I’d rather be another older brother to you than another father.” And he winks at me. Guess I wasn’t imagining my old man’s subtle jealousy either.

                “Okay, Conrad, then you have to call me Yuuri. After all, you gave me that name.”

                He nods seriously, as though making a pact. “Yes, Yuuri.”

                “And don’t sound so polite!” Even after we joked and played around and got onto first-name basis, there’s still something stiff about him. Almost instinctively, I lean over and flick his forehead.

                “Ow!”

                I’m sure it doesn’t hurt as much as he’s pretending it does, and I’m slightly relieved despite being annoyed. He looks at me with those brown eyes flecked with silver, blinking them slowly and dolefully…

                No wonder my dogs already like him so much.

                I sit back beside him, careful not to meet his eyes. “So, what do you plan to do now?”

                Over dinner, they had explained that Wolfram’s mother was worried about him being here alone, so she sent them over as well. Wolfram scowled deeply at that, and was scolded by my mother instead. She made sure he knew just how much mothers care and worry about their little boys, especially when they’re so far away and no matter how old they got, embarrassing both Wolfram and me in the process. But I think Wolfram was also somewhat comforted by it, as expected of a mother’s scolding.

                “Hmm, I guess I’ll get a job, otherwise I won’t be able to pay rent, now will I?”

                “My dad would say you don’t need to.”

                “Yes, but I would still like to return your family’s kindness in some way. In any case, I won’t let us be a burden to you.”

                He looks directly at me as he says that, as though he’s talking specifically to me, even though my parents are the one paying for the food and electricity. The silver in his eyes darken, and then flash.

                “Yuuri, I—”

                “Cap’n, I’m done with the bath.” Gurrier stands at the door and takes up almost the whole frame. Mn, he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his orange hair is plastered to his neck and his abs—I’m suddenly glad we don’t have a sister.

                “…Okay.” Conrad gets up, his eyes averted once more. “Sorry, Yuuri, could we talk another time?”

                “What are you talking about?” Gurrier puts one arm around each of us, his head firmly between us. “Can I join in on the conversation too?”

                I glance at Conrad, and see the light in his eyes go out once more, even as he forces a smile.

                “Sure. Next time we can get to know each other together, right, Yuuri?”

                Whatever he was about to say just now before Gurrier interrupted, somehow I get the feeling I won’t be hearing it again. I nod.

 

The guest room isn’t big enough for three people. Apparently mine is big enough for two.

                When I get back to my room, Wolfram is carefully arranging his things in one corner, stacking them up neatly and efficiently. There isn’t much for him to arrange, though.

                “You can use my closet for your clothes too. Ah, wait, let me make some space for you.” As I’m clearing one drawer into another, I can’t resist asking, “You guys didn’t bring much, did you? Not just you, but Conrad and Gurrier too.”

                Whenever my family went on holidays, we would carry huge suitcases even if we were only staying for a few days. Most of it was my mom’s make-up, my old man’s work, Shouri’s games and my baseball bat, though. Speaking of which, I’ll need to get a new one.

                “We’re soldiers. We make do with what we have.”

                Oh, yeah, he mentioned that. “Is that why Gurrier calls Conrad ‘Captain’?”

                “Yes, they were in the same division once.” Wolfram closes the drawer with a bang and a ‘hmph’.

                “…Alright, why are you angry this time?”

                “I’m not angry!”

                “Well, you are now.” Every time I think I know him better now, he just finds new ways to confuse me. “What did I do? I won’t know unless you tell me.”

                “Because you’re a wimp and an idiot.”

                “Yeah, yeah. So tell me?”

                Wolfram’s eyes narrow. “You’re calling him by his name already.”

                “Who, Conrad?”

                “Just like that! You didn’t even ask me my name when we first met!”

                Urk, he noticed… and not only that, he remembered.

                “Well, I just met you that time, and—”

                “You just met him today.”

                “No,” I say automatically, “I met him before, when I was—”

                “That doesn’t count!”

                I frown slightly. “Why are you so upset about this? And it’s not just this time, either. You really don’t like him, do you?”

                At first I thought it was just a brotherly quarrel, but this seems to go further than that. From the very first time he mentioned his family, he already made it clear he likes his second brother a lot less. And Conrad’s coming over from so far away doesn’t seem to have helped at all.

                “That’s because he’s—” Wolfram start to say, but cuts himself off. The effort turns his ears a flaming red, as though the words are about to burst out, and still he bites his tongue. I wait for a while, and once I’m sure he’s not going to finish the sentence, I continue tidying my room for two. It’s not my place to pry, but the incomplete sentence hangs over us like a heavy cloud. It’s irritating.

                We finish our preparations for bed in silence, brushing past and bumping into each other until we eventually get used to each other. The small room that seemed so cramped at first doesn’t expand any, but we learn to accommodate surprisingly fast. Once the futon is all laid out, I let Wolfram take the bath first, while I try to tackle some of my homework.

                “Yuuri.” I’m lost in quadratic equations when he comes back into the room, bringing along with him a mist of heat. The sound of his voice pulls my gaze towards him, and there it stays. “I said, it’s your turn—What are you staring at?”

                Yeah, what am I staring at? So what if he’s only in his boxers, we’re both guys, I have everything he does, and even I sleep in my underwear sometimes, and—

                I lend him a pair of my pajamas, and swear that we’ll go shopping tomorrow. Thank goodness for the weekend.

 

That night, I slept on the bed while he took the futon. We promised to take turns, but already I’m starting to dread nighttime.

                “Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” Shouri jumps when he sees me at breakfast in the morning. He even adjusts his glasses to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. “Yuu-chan, I know it must be exciting to have a friend staying with you, but you shouldn’t play too much at night.”

                I slump onto the table, too tired to comment. I’m just used to sleeping at least eight hours at night, and last night I could barely even get half of that. My bed isn’t even that low, and somehow his hand still got onto my bed, and into weird places. And he kicked the frame so hard I thought there was an earthquake. His snores even sounded like a strange siren. When I tried to curl up near the wall, he pulled me down by the sheets, and didn’t wake when I fell on him! Twice!

                When Mom opened the door to wake us up and found us tangled on the futon, she didn’t even say anything. Which makes it all the worse.

                “Good morning, Yuuri.”

                “Conrad…” His voice offers me a hope of salvation, and I perk right up. “Conrad! Do you want to come to my room tonight?”

                Anything but Wolfram again. Somehow I highly doubt I’ll be spared by sleeping on the futon this time.

                My sudden outburst takes the whole house by surprise. Shouri’s glasses flash mysteriously. My mom turns abruptly red and weirdly excited. My old man chokes on his coffee. Gurrier whistles. Conrad looks surprised for a moment, but quickly breaks into that kind smile of his.

                “Why, of cou—”

                “ _Yuu. Ri_.” The growling of a demon from behind me makes all the hairs on my neck stand on end. _“What. Did. You. Say?”_

                All pretty boys have bad tempers in the morning, apparently. Is it that the prettier they are, the worse their tempers? Well, I’m not pretty or good-looking by any standards, but I’m pretty angry today too.

                “I’m the one who didn’t get to sleep last night! You just do as you please and enjoy your night—Well, one time is enough for me.”

                “No cheating on me!”

                “I’m not cheating on you, I just don’t want to sleep with you anymore.”

                “Oh my, is Yuu-chan tired of Wolfram already?”

                No, I’m just tired in general.

                Wolfram’s face turns livid, and he points at his brother, “Fine, but why him?”

                Because he looks like a peaceful sleeper… But I sense it again, that intense dislike Wolfram has for Conrad. It’s not hatred, though. I’m sure of that.

                Suddenly I remember my vow from yesterday, and come up with a brilliant plan.

                “Wolf, Conrad, let’s go shopping!”

                “Oooh, me too, me too!” Gurrier raises his hand excitedly. “Yuu-chan, why didn’t you ask me too?”

                I get a different kind of shivers hearing the orange-haired muscleman call me Yuu-chan, but I can’t be biased. I nod strongly. “We’ll all go. You guys need to buy your daily supplies, right? And Wolfram needs a new set of pajamas.”

                “You’re too small, Yuuri.”

                “Those are my old clothes, of course they’re small!” I wasn’t going to tell him I recently swore off those ‘childish’ pajamas—somehow, I didn’t really want to sleep shirtless anymore now that we’re sharing a room. One glance of his body last night was enough.

                Darn these soldier types and their washboard abs. No wonder I wasn’t getting enough sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strangely, as diehard Yuuram as I am, I can't imagine a rewrite/AU of maruma without significant ammounts of Conyuu-- ahem, I mean Conrad and Yuuri bonding. But we know what the OTP is, and I'm still trying to get them to sleep on one bed, so you'll just have to settle for now, Wolfie~ ;)
> 
> Btw I'm really loving the discussions here, you guys make me sound/feel smarter than I am X'D Also, I can finally add a certain few someones to the tags, wheeee~


	9. Shopping Date(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking the oddballs out is equal parts trouble and fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be something like a fish-out-of-water story, lol.

If you saw how they were acting, you would think they’ve never been in a mall before.

                “So you can buy anything from these machines?” Gurrier is examining a vending machine with intense interest. “But there’s only one drink each, what if you want to buy more than one of the same type?”

                “The one in front is only for display.” I stifle a yawn. “There are others inside, just put in the money and— Not like that! Cards don’t work on vending machines!”

                “Ehh? But I don’t have anything else… Yuu-chan~”

                I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. Sighing, I pull out my wallet.

                Beside me, Wolfram goes ‘hmph’ and folds his arms. “How pathetic. Don’t worry, Yuuri, I’ll never ask you for money.”

                Maybe not, but he is actually every bit as excited as Gurrier. I still remember him spending half of lunchtime one day figuring out the vending machine in school, so he has no right to look down on Gurrier now. His attention, however, has moved on to the escalators just beyond the main entrance into the mall.

                “Are those… stairs? Why are they moving?”

                I take a deep breath. “Because they’re powered by electricity.”

                “You mean the same things that light up your room?” His jaw falls open. “So you humans really have harnessed the power of lightning… Unbelievable.”

                There it is again. I knock him over the head playfully. “Don’t talk like you’re not one of us. Now come on, there are a lot of things we need to get.”

                On the other end, Conrad is trying to stop Gurrier from picking up the whole machine and shaking it to see if more drinks come out. Compared to his brother and friend, my godfather is infinitely more sensible.

                Once we get into the department store, however, all hell breaks loose.

                “Yuuri, look!” Wolfram holds up a cream-colored nightdress triumphantly. “This is just like what we wear back home, see?”

                Gurrier I understand, but Wolf, why did you go searching in the ladies’ section too!? Look, the salesgirls are looking at us strangely—

                “Do you think this one will look good on me? It’s comfortable enough, but I wonder if it’s the right size— Ah, is that room there for trying clothes out?”

                “No!” I yelp. “I mean, you can’t try on ling—nightclothes like that.”

                Please, don’t get us kicked out of here too. Walking around with this bunch feels like a constant possibility of getting arrested for all sorts of things, my poor heart can’t take it.

              Wolfram frowns. “True, it’s unhygienic. The other women are doing it, though, so I thought it was acceptable here.”

                “Acceptable for them, maybe…” But at the same time, he seems so happy to see something from home that I just can’t break it to him. M-Maybe if I told the cashier that we were getting it for my sister—Yeah, that’ll work.

                Having solved that problem, I open my mouth to tell Wolfram he can just get it, only to see the realization dawn in his eyes. Before I can stop him, he puts the nightdress back onto the rack.

                I blink. “Aren’t you buying it?”

                His expression darkens, his eyes flitting back and forth. “You could have told me earlier, Yuuri. I’m not a fool.”

                “Told you what?”

                He flushes, suddenly angry, but he keeps his voice pressed low. “That this section is for women! No wonder those girls are laughing.”

                Is he bothered by that? His pride wouldn’t let him be made fun of, huh? But at the same time, I thought he would be beyond caring what others thought.

                When I don’t respond immediately, he pulls my hand and storms away. “Why don’t you care!? I’m sure they’re laughing at you too.”

                Oh, is that it? My questions clear like the clouds after rain, and suddenly I’m in a better mood than I’ve been since waking up on the wrong bed.

                “Do you really want that dress, Wolf?”

                He stops dead in his tracks. I can’t help but smile.

                “If you want it, I’ll get it for you.”

                “Don’t make fun of me!” He tosses my wrist away, his face more pale than red now. “I’m aware that I don’t know anything about the customs here, but you, of all people—”

                “I’m not teasing you,” I say seriously. “In fact, I think you’ll look great in it. Just because you’re here now, doesn’t mean you have to forget where you came from. Come on, I’ll help you find the right size.”

                This time I’m the one pulling him back where we came. He keeps his gaze lowered even as I hold up different sizes to his chest, trying to figure out which one fits him best.

                “Don’t listen to them, Wolf.” This color would look beautiful against his skin. I can’t help but admire his taste. “Or is your self-esteem more fragile than I thought?”

                “…!” His head shoots back up, his eyes blazing. Our gazes meet, then he catches himself, and looks away again.

                I laugh. That fierce look definitely fits him best.

                “…I’m not a woman, y’know.”

                “Of course I know that.” I nod wisely. “You’re Wolfram.”

                After that, he follows me quietly to the cashier. The lady there can’t help but ask, “Are you buying this for your girlfriend?”

                The grip on the back of my shirt tightens. I reply sunnily, “No, it’s for the pretty boy hiding behind me. It’s a thing where he’s from, y’see. Don’t you think he’ll look good in it?”

                “I’m not hiding,” comes the sulky whisper in my ear, but when the lady stammers her agreement and hands me the nightdress wrapped up in paper, I fancy his hand on my back becomes gentler.

                Mn, maybe I’ll stay with him tonight after all, just to see him wear what I bought for him.

 

He insists on going to a different store for his regular clothing, so I lead him around for a while until we bump into Conrad and Gurrier again. It seems Gurrier had to go to a… special shop to get his garments.

                “What about you, Conrad?”

                My godfather looks a tad more tired than when we separated. I pat his shoulder sympathetically. It mustn’t be easy, dealing with that Gurrier. “I think I’m done with my part, thank goodness. As for Gurrier—”

                We watch wordlessly as Wolfram and Gurrier attack the next store together. At least it’s a general shop for normal men’s clothing, but even so, I think they’ll be giving the salesgirls a different kind of heart attack.

                “Are the guys from your place all so good-looking?” I sit down on the bench outside the store, feeling oddly like a boyfriend holding his girlfriend’s bags as she shops. Sigh… If only I had an actual girlfriend, this might be a bit more worth it.

                “Hm, not particularly.” Conrad settles down next to me, with even more bags than I have. I glance at the contents—Yep, he’s holding Gurrier’s as well as his own.

                “You really are a gentleman, aren’t you, Conrad?”

                “Not particularly.”

                “C’mon, you can be straight with me,” I tease him. “I bet you have a lot of ladies back home.”

                Conrad smiles in reply, his eyes sad but also comforted. Comforting. “No, I don’t. Believe me, Yuuri, one is more than enough. You’ll be grateful to have that one, so cherish them while you can.”

                “True.” I always did believe in monogamy. “Tell me, Conrad, is it true that guys and guys are accepted where you come from?”

                “It is not uncommon, yes.”

                “And where you come from, it’s not Germany, is it?” I rest my chin on my hands, looking into the store. Wolfram and Gurrier are still trying to figure out how zippers work. “Don’t laugh at me if I’m wrong, but you’re not really… from this world, are you?”

                “Yuuri…”

                Ah, he’s not laughing. I almost wish he would.

                “I’m sorry, I—I can’t really explain it to you right now.”

                “Mn, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll understand it much, anyway. I’m still trying to believe it, even though there’s no way it could be anything else.” He doesn’t even understand electricity, for goodness’ sake. But at least this means Wolfram doesn’t have chuunibyou. “I thought he wouldn’t lie or act about anything like that. For a while I even suspected he might be a bit cuckoo.”

                “Are you talking about Wolfram?”

                “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m relieved he’s normal after all, or at least, as normal as a non-Earthling can be.” Hmm, that still sounds stupid to me. “Unless, of course, all of you are crazy. And Murata too, since he seems to know about you.”

                I sit back to muse, holding my chin like I saw Murata do. “In that case, it would mean most of my friends are wrong in the head, right? Well, since I can’t cure you, I might as well join you.”

                Conrad finally laughs. “That’s not how it works.”

                “Isn’t it?” I smile, glad that the despair is gone from his expression. I didn’t think he would react so deeply to my finding out their little secret. Speaking of which—“By the way, could you maybe not tell Wolfram that I figured it out?”

                “Why not?” Conrad’s eyes flicker curiously.

                “He’s trying to keep it secret from me, right?” I yawn, and stretch my arms. “I’m thinking he’ll blame himself for letting the cat out of the bag.”

                And he’ll act differently if he found out I knew. I just have a feeling that he will.

                If coming clean means that our relationship will never be the same again, I’m quite happy with things the way they are now. Even if that means there will still be secrets between us.

                After a short pause, Conrad says, “You’re very kind, Yuuri.”

                “Is that so? I thought I was being selfish here.” Gurrier is paying at the counter now, and Wolfram seems to have gone deeper into the store. “I don’t know what you guys are doing here, or how, or why. It doesn’t really matter, to be honest.”

                I turn to grin at Conrad. “All I know is that I kinda like you guys, even though you’re so weird. Ah, but I have no right to say anything, do I? Since I believe that you’re from another world and all that. But what I mean is,” my expression turns solemn, “as long as we’re friends, I don’t care about anything else.”

                When my embarrassing little speech is met with silence, I feel suddenly uneasy. “We _are_ friends, aren’t we?”

                Conrad’s contemplative features watch me for a moment longer, and then he breaks into the most breathtaking smile. “Of course we are. And I’m sure Wolfram thinks the same way too.”

                I can’t help but notice he doesn’t mention Gurrier, who is now coming back to us with even more bags. But it doesn’t matter, we have time. Gurrier gets along well enough with Shouri, and we all live under the same roof, after all. I’ll get to know him better soon.

                “Yuuri, close your eyes,” Wolfram commands as soon as he comes back to us.

                I obey dutifully.

                “Hold out your hands.”

                I feel a light but sturdy weight in my hands, and open my eyes to see a beautiful new baseball bat. “Wolf…”

                “Don’t cry on me again, you wimp.” But he won’t meet my gaze, his cheeks slightly rosy. “I broke yours last time, so this is payback.”

                “I’m really happy…”

                “Yeah, yeah—Hey, don’t swing it here! At least wait until we get home, you baseball idiot!”

                Home, huh?

                Looking around me, I have a premonition, that maybe we won’t be just friends.

                We could be family.

                “…But how much did you buy!?” Can we even fit all that into my room? Ah, wait, it’s our room now. “Our room isn’t that big, y’know.”

                Wolfram looks grudgingly at the bags in his hands. “Gurrier got even more than I did.”

                That reminds me. “Do you have enough money? Don’t go spending it all today just because we’re at the mall.”

                “As if I would be so foolish!”      

                “Where do you get your money from, anyway?” I doubt they can transfer money from their home world, so no matter how rich these princes are there, they should be pretty broke here.

                Conrad intercepts, knowing exactly why I’m asking. “We had some friends here providing for us temporarily, but Gurrier and I already secured our jobs this morning, so you don’t have to worry about us.”

                “That’s good,” I nod. You should never owe people money or favors if you can help it. “What kind of jobs?” I spot a flash of bright pink in one of the bags. “And Gurrier, what’s the tracksuit for?”

                Conrad and Gurrier exchange glances, and smile mysteriously.

                “It’s a secret~”

                “But don’t worry, Yuuri, you won’t have to wait long to find out.”

 

That night, I sleep in close contact with the nightdress I just bought that day, as expected. And it’s even worse than before, since so much of his skin is exposed this time. His fair skin practically glows in the night, and it’s positively distracting.

                I guess I’ll just have to get used to sleeping with the lights on, so to speak.

                And the next morning in class, just as I’m about to pass out on my table, the door opens after the bell for English class rings, and suddenly I don’t feel like sleeping anymore.

                “Good morning, students.”

                That smile is as blinding as ever. Next to me, Wolfram’s scowl deepens.

                “My name is Conrad Weller, and I’m your substitute English teacher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we're in this weird balance where Yuuri knows and yet doesn't know and Wolfram doesn't know he knows or what he doesn't know but Conrad knows he knows and sorta knows what he doesn't know-- What did I write myself into?


	10. From the Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dark shadows start rearing their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is definitely not going to end in 15...

Our worries didn’t end there.

                “Yoo-hoo~! Wolfie, Yuu-chan! Don’t I look good in this?”

                It seems Gurrier got a post as PE teacher, too. At least he’s not teaching our class.

                “Why would you say so? Gurrier is rather good at physical exercises, I can vouch for that much.”

                “Why are you eating lunch with us!? You’re a teacher!”

                “And why are you the one protesting, Wolf?” This whole morning has left me feeling weak in the knees, and in every other way as well. I know I said I wouldn’t mind being crazy with the rest of them, but I still need time to adjust, dammit. “I should be the one getting upset, it feels like my high school life has been taken over by aliens…”

              “Come now, where’s that famous Japanese hospitality?” Conrad takes out his bento and chopsticks. “Itadakimasu.”

                I watch him curiously. “You’re really used to this, aren’t you? I know my parents met you in Boston, but have you been to Japan before?”

                And really, why Boston? Is there a portal to the other world there? Wait, is there a portal to the other world here!?

                Maybe the movies are right, and everything does happen in either America or Japan.

                “No, this is my first time here.” Conrad eats his rice like a true Japanese man. “However, your father did teach me how to use chopsticks, as well as some basic Japanese terms and greetings when last we met.”

                That old man, seems like he was always that preachy, trying to impart his little knowledge wherever he can. “Wolf, you’re holding your chopsticks wrong. Here, your finger goes here—”

                “I can eat my own lunch, thank you very much!”

                We are on the roof, where there are fewer people. Even so, we’re definitely not alone. And I thought I had gotten used to the stares, but they seem to be even worse today, probably because this time we have the handsome new teacher with us.

                “S-Sensei…” A girl approaches Conrad, egged on by her friends. Now, why does this seem familiar? “T-There’s a part I don’t understand…”

                “What don’t you understand about it?”

                “W-well…”

                “Wolf, let’s go.” We got here before Conrad did, so both Wolfram and I have finished our lunches. “We shouldn’t get in the way.”

                We barely get down the stairs before we’re surrounded again. To be precise, Wolfram is surrounded again.

                “Bielefeld! Is it true that the new teacher is your brother? But your last names are different!”

                “Weller-sensei, how dreamy…”

                “Hey, hey, does he have a girlfriend?”

                “No,” Wolfram answers seriously. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend, we are half-brothers, and he’s staying nearby for now. Oh, yeah, his telephone number is…”

                Wait a sec, why are you selling out your brother so quickly!? I watch exasperatedly as he fumbles with his smartphone, still unfamiliar with the Japanese characters. Come to think of it, he can’t read English either, can he? Conrad told me in secret that they learned to speak the language through some cutting-edge hypnosis technology provided by their friends in high places, but that shortcut program doesn’t include writing and reading. He also admitted that he studied English on his own after going back to his world, which is why he can teach now without any problems.

                Wolfram and Gurrier, though, are not so lucky.

                If this goes on any longer, the others will notice. Reluctantly I pull out my phone and decide to sell out my godfather.

                “If you want Weller-sensei’s number, it’s—”

                “Why do you have the new teacher’s number, Shibuya?”

                “Mn?” Because we bought it together yesterday. “He’s… a family friend, so of course I would have his number.”

                “First Bielefeld, and now Weller-sensei…”

                I can’t tell where the murmurs are coming from. For a moment, they seemed to be coming from everywhere, all at once.

                _“Ahh, I’m so jealous…”_

_“I don’t get it, why him?”_

_“Yeah, what’s so special about him?”_

                E-eh? Could it be that I finally have something worth being jealous about? Hmm, the feeling isn’t as good as I thought it would be, though. In fact, it’s rather… unpleasant.

               I quickly rattle out the numbers, and then pull Wolfram away, on the pretense of looking for Gurrier. But even then, the whispers follow us.

                _“Ehhh—he knows the new PE teacher as well? What a—”_

 

“—teacher’s pet? You?”

                Murata almost chokes on his coffee. “You, the guy who punched your coach in middle school?”

                “Will you stop mentioning that?”

                “Too bad, it’s in your records. And since it’s permanent, I even thought you’d go down in history as a delinquent.” He blows on the drink carefully, fogging up his glasses. “Well, things sure turned out differently.”

                “I wasn’t going to be a delinquent,” I say crossly, burning my tongue on my hot chocolate. “O-ow… Anyway, I just wanted to keep my head down and be a normal baseball boy.”

                “Get into any more fights together with that boyfriend of yours, and you’ll be anything but inconspicuous.”

                “He’s not my boyfriend!” My voice goes louder than I expected, and people start turning to stare. I hide in my collar. “And he didn’t pick those fights, they came to him. You can’t expect him to just take it lying down, can you?”

                “According to him, that’s what you planned to do when you took my place.”

                “That’s different,” I wave him off. “And we’re going off-topic. Did I tell you? Conrad put in an application to be our baseball coach.”

                “Isn’t that good news?” Murata looks outside the café window, as though expecting to see these colorful new characters crossing the road. “You were fretting about finding a coach, and it’s even better if he’s faculty. Is he any good?”

                “He taught Wolfram.” I blow bubbles in my cup. “I should be glad, but… This isn’t going to be any easier, is it?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “This teacher’s pet thing!” I glare at him, frustrated. I know he understands what I mean, he just wants me to spell it out. “Now they’ll be saying I got favors from him because he’s a family friend. And Gurrier volunteered to be a sort of manager for our team too—”

                “Well, there you go. Two of your problems solved.”

                “That’s wrong, and you know it!” I reach over to pinch his cheek. “You’re the one who told me, right? A coach and manager don’t matter as long as I don’t have enough players. And there’s no way I’ll get people to join with things the way they are now!”

                “Why not?” Murata drains his drink. Hey, you do realize I’m still holding your cheek, right? It’s spilling, it’s spilling out of your mouth! I dive for the tissue before the coffee can stain his shirt. “The way I see it, you can use this to your advantage.”

                “Huh?” I ask distractedly. “Pay attention, why don’t you? Coffee stains are impossible to get out of white clothes.”

               “It’s your fault for physically harassing me,” Murata says matter-of-factly, thoroughly enjoying my service. “Anyway, now that everyone is in a fuss over these new teachers, why don’t you use that as bait? If the others are complaining that you’re monopolizing the newcomer’s attention, announce that the club is accepting new members, and anyone who joins can get to know them too.”

                I let my hand, still holding the tissue, fall onto the table.

                “That’s what Wolfram, and Conrad, and even Gurrier told me. I get that it’s the easiest thing to do. But still—”

                “It doesn’t feel right to you?”

                I hesitate, and then shake my head firmly.

                “There, you have your answer then.” Murata reaches over for my cup, and takes a long draught from it. “That’s payback for the coffee you made me spill.”

                “Who drinks coffee while their cheek is being pinched!?”

                “You’ve been looking at the clock a lot, are you in a hurry to go anywhere?”

                “N-no! It’s just, Wolfram’s supplementary Japanese classes are ending soon—”

                “And you’ve been looking at the menu a lot, too.”

                “…What do you think he’ll like?” And Conrad, too. Somehow I think he’ll like black coffee. But Gurrier…

                “After knowing you all this time,” Murata huffs, “you never bought me a drink.”

                “Because you can order one yourself. Wolfram can barely write his own name.”

                “Ah, I think I know how your classmates feel. I’m jealous, too.”

                “Hah? If you want to get to know them, you can just come over whenever.” Suddenly I’m not feeling too pleased myself. I know that otherworldly trio are eye-catching, but it’s starting to seem like everyone prefers them over me. Not that anyone preferred me before they came…

                “I’m jealous of them. You’re so occupied with your new houseguests that you barely have any time for me anymore.” Murata wipes invisible tears from his eyes, and I feel myself get a little flustered.

                “N-no way! I’m not neglecting you or anything, I just—”

                “Between your afternoon practice, your evening practice, your shopping trips and your cuddly nights, I have to make an appointment if I want to see you now.”

                “That’s not—Wait, how do you know about the shopping? And the—It’s not cuddling!”

                “Your new friends may not know how to write in Japanese, but they sure figured out how to take and post pictures fast.” I hadn’t noticed Murata was scrolling through his Instagram. “Especially this orange-haired one, Gurrier, was it? Tsk, tsk, he sure adapts well. Look, he already has over a hundred followers. Although, are you sure it’s okay for someone with an open hobby like his to be teaching in a high school—”

                “Let me see that!” Aaah, these pictures—When did he take this one!?

                “Wolfram definitely looks good in that nightdress.”

                “Don’t look!”

               “My, aren’t you protective?” Murata laughs, but the sound is rather lonely. I find myself watching my friend closely. Have I really been ignoring him?

                “Hey, Murata?”

                “Hm?”

                “I wasn’t kidding when I said you can come over whenever. In fact, my mom has been bugging me about you, asking when you’ll come again for dinner.”

                “No taking that back, got it? Tell your mom I miss her curry too.”

                “Mn. And also, Murata?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Isn’t there something you should be telling me?” I wonder, will he react like Conrad did? “About the other world, the one where Wolf and the others come from. You know something, don’t you?”

                Murata lowers his gaze, and the light reflected off his glasses hides his eyes. Did I mention how much I hate it when that happens? “Shibuya… I’m sorry.”

                There it is again, the apology. But it’s different from Conrad’s. When I confronted Conrad about it, he looked guilty, relieved, and even a bit scared. That’s why I didn’t ask any further. Murata, though—

                I reach over and pluck those annoying glasses from his face. There are tiny tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

                “Shibuya, give that back.” He rubs away the tears with his wrist. “You know I’m blind without them.”

                “It’s much better to be honest, y’know. Getting things off your chest and your conscience makes you breathe easier, too. It’s good for your health.”

                “…Are you sure you won’t think I’m crazy?”

                “You’re no crazier than those guys, and I’m just as crazy for believing all of you.”

                When he still stays silent, I get up from my seat and sit next to him instead. Our shoulders brushing against each other, I feel his cold body warm up again, slowly. “Murata?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Tell me more.”

                “Well, the first thing you have to know about that world is that there are these people called mazoku, and a long, long time ago—”

                Mazoku? As in, demons. But wait, that’s not what I want to hear. “Tell me more about you.”

                “…see? This is why it had to be you.”

                “Huh?”

                “Nothing. But you were too impatient, Shibuya. To tell this story properly, I have to start from the beginning.

                “—From the man they call Shinou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, apparently I added some Yuuri/Murata here too? It's going to end up with a bit of Yuuri/everyone, huh...


	11. Voiceless Accusations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri learns what it means to be at the top, or at least, to be in front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time tackling an issue like this, hmm...

The next morning when I arrive at school, I find my table covered in marker pen scrawls.

                Wolfram’s expression changes when he sees the writing, even if he can’t understand what’s being written. Suddenly I’m glad he’s just starting to learn Japanese reading, because otherwise I think I’ll have to physically hold him back again.

                And well, I don’t really feel like stopping him today, even if I know I have to.

                “Who did this!? Which lowly—”

                “It’s just writing, Wolf. Come on, help me wipe it off before the teacher arrives.”

                I look around for the cloth used to wipe the windows, and feel rather than see the gazes following me.

                _“Ordering him around like some kind of boss—”_

_“A first year, baseball team captain? I wonder whose shoes he had to lick to get that position.”_

_“Acting all high and mighty just because he knows the new teachers—”_

_“Did you hear? They’re staying together.”_

_“Heh, so that’s how he got them to do everything he says. I bet he’s paying them with his—”_

                “Enough!” Wolfram slams his hand down onto the table, his voice reverberating through the room and bringing silence wherever it went. “If you have something to say, say it to our faces!”

                “Wolfram.” I shake my head. Don’t say it like that—at times like this, you mustn’t side with me, or you’ll become a target too.

                “Yuuri!” He turns on me, furious. “Don’t tell me you’re just going to take this, too!?”

                It seems they’ve hidden the cloth as well. I sigh. “If I can’t take a few words and whispers, how can I be a good captain? As king, don’t you think you would have to take a lot of rumors too?”

                Wolfram looks like he wants to argue at first, but he bites his lip when I say that last part. Now that I vaguely know what his country is like, I can’t help but think he could be a good king. But he still needs training. We both do.

                “Here, use this.”

                Wolfram rummages in his bag and pulls out his gym shirt, handing it to me brusquely.

                “Wolf, you know I can’t use this.”

                “Tch.” Before I can stop him this time, he lifts his uniform and tears a strip off his singlet. “Take it, it’s useless to me now.”

                “…Thanks.” I pour some water from my bottle onto the cloth, and take one last look at the words on my table.

                _Asslicker. Teacher’s pet. Just die already. Go to hell._

_Faggot._

I close my eyes for a moment, and start attacking the table surface fiercely. Next to me, I hear another tearing sound, and a fair hand joins mine on the table, somehow managing to look a lot angrier.

                Ahh, now we’ll have to buy him another shirt after school.

 

When the lunch bell rings, I pick up my bento and get ready to head to the roof with Wolfram. Before I can even stand up, though, someone stops me.

                “Shibuya—I’m sorry about that.”

                The classmate that comes up to me is Takeuchi Naoki, the son of the school principal. To be honest, I don’t know much about him, but he seems nice enough. His features are mild, and right now the most expressive thing about his face is the uneasy guilt on it.

                “The words were already there on your table when I got here… I’m sorry, I should have helped you wipe them off earlier.”

                “Nah, I understand. After all, you don’t want them to get mad at you too.” I give him a bright smile. “I’m happy you’re still willing to talk to me now, but if you don’t want to get in trouble, maybe you should—”

                He shakes his head fiercely. “No! It’s bad enough that I stayed quiet just now. Shibuya… why aren’t you angry?”

                “Hmm, maybe because it doesn’t really bother me?” I scratch my face awkwardly.

               “No way—There’s no need to act strong, Shibuya!” Takeuchi grips his fist agitatedly. “I know how it feels. All my life, people look at me sideways just because my father is the principal and my mother is a teacher. Whatever I do, people will make it sound like I’m only here because my parents pulled strings for me…”

                “In that case, why don’t you try doing something only you can do?” I glance over my shoulder, where Wolfram is already standing and waiting impatiently. “Baseball, for example. When you’re standing on the mound or getting ready to bat, what happens next is all on you. No matter who your parents are, they can’t help you score that run.”

                “Shibuya, you really do like baseball, don’t you?”

                “Heh, is it that obvious?”

                Takeuchi watches me with his surprisingly clear eyes, until I start feeling slightly uncomfortable. Then his face breaks into a grin.

                “I heard you’re looking for baseball club members, would you mind if I join?”

 

“So that makes three more.”

                Takeuchi said he felt awkward joining alone, so he dragged two of his best friends with him. I look at the three club entrance forms in my hands, feeling like I’m in a dream.

                Wolfram still seems annoyed that his lunchtime was delayed so much, but his expression softens when he sees the disbelief on my face. “Be happy, Yuuri. Now we have eight members.”

                “And a coach, and a manager.” It’s still too bad the manager isn’t a cute high school girl, but beggars can’t be choosers. I pat my cheeks to clear my head. “We only need three more.”

                Just three… The number is somehow a lot closer now. After all, we just got three this morning.

                “But don’t get ahead of yourself, wimp. We don’t even know if those three can play yet. And you’re the one who said we’ll be playing to win.”

                “I did say that, didn’t I? Me and my big fat mouth.” But I still can’t stop grinning. “Loosen up, Wolf! Even if they can’t play all that well, it’s good enough that we have more players, and this soon. Since they joined us early, we have more time to train together, and bond over snacks in the evening, or even join an overnight camp.” All the possibilities are running through my brain. “By the time Koshien comes, we’ll be ready.”

                “You’re too optimistic.”

                “Really?” I lie down on the rooftop, putting my hands behind my head. “Well, when it comes to these things, I think it’s better to be optimistic than pessimistic. After all, if you go into a match thinking you’ve already lost, there’s no way you can win.”

                “I suppose you’re right.” Wolfram joins me on the floor. “Yuuri, what are you going to do about those cowards?”

                “Eh, a few words won’t hurt me.”

                “Liar.”

                I fall silent. But Wolfram pushes on.

                “What did the words say?”

                For some reason, I don’t want to tell him. “Just some childish things.”

                “Why did you let those childish things get to you, then?” Wolfram turns onto his side to look at me. “Was there any truth in them?”

                 “Of course not.”

              “Hmph.” I can’t tell if he’s convinced. We both go back to staring at the sky. And then he says, “Is this normal here?”

                I suddenly remember something, a case from back in middle school. It wasn’t my class, but the class next door all ganged up on a kid because his father was a professor or something. It made no sense. And come to think of it, I was a lot angrier back then.

                “This country seems so peaceful and civilized at first, but deep down humans are brutes after all, aren’t they?”

                “Don’t say it so harshly,” I say instinctively. “We aren’t perfect, but we’re strong enough to survive, too.”

                “Not everyone is as strong as you, Yuuri.”

                “I’m not strong.”

                Back then, I had the guts to reach out to that boy who was being bullied, because I knew I wasn’t alone. It started with a wrong call, that’s how I found out about the bullying. But at the same time, the caller also made it clear he wanted nothing to do with it. And that gave me the strength to step out. Even so, I had to call a junior to follow me to that class next door, because I wasn’t confident enough to do it on my own.

                “By themselves, each person is weak.” After I brought that boy into our baseball club, he worked up a good tan and a thicker skin. He stopped listening to what the cowards said. Because the words never hurt him—the silence did.

                The feeling of loneliness, that’s what makes it unbearable.

                Wolfram pats my hand, and I automatically twine my fingers with his. He must be surprised to meet my sweaty palm, but he recovers almost immediately, holding my hand back.

                I close my eyes, feeling the cool breeze on my forehead.

                It’s not so bad, because I’m not alone.

 

At practice that afternoon, we find out that Takeuchi is actually a surprisingly good pitcher.

                “Hehe, is that so? I used to pitch in middle school, but my parents thought I should focus on my studies once I got to high school. They said I wasn’t good enough to make a career out of it, so I should do something useful instead.”

                “Eh? Then won’t they be mad?”

                He shakes his head, and says almost to himself, “No, they won’t. Not if they know Shibuya is here in the club too.”

                Hm? Am I really that secretly famous until even his parents know me? No way. O-or could it really be my records? Won’t they be even more worried that their son is hanging out with the delinquent who assaulted a staff member?

                “Yuuri, focus!” Wolfram yells angrily when I pitch way off to the right. He had to dive to catch the ball, getting mud all over his front.

                “S-sorry, my bad!”

                The more I look at it, the more I genuinely think that Takeuchi is better at this than me.

                “Takeuchi, switch.”

                “Sure!”

               We don’t have a set catcher yet, though Wolfram was trying out the ropes. The two of us practice a bit at night, too, so we built up something of a rapport, using signals only we know. For Takeuchi, though, maybe someone more experienced would be better? “Kitamura-senpai, come over here for a moment, please.”

                “Well, it doesn’t look like you need a coach.” Conrad had to attend a staff meeting, and so got to practice late. I watch him carefully, just in case he’s mad at me taking charge. Like I said, I have some bad experience with coaches in school teams.

                “It’s just until you got here, I hope you don’t mind.”

                “Oh, no, please go ahead. The team captain has as much say as the coach, anyway.”

                That’s not what I heard before. I lower my gaze, adjusting my cap. “By the way, we have some new players today.”

                “So I noticed. Shall we introduce ourselves, and run through some drills, then?”

                As expected of a trained army man, Conrad knows how to grab and maintain attention. His exercises are rigid but useful, and he really knows which muscles to train and how. But when it comes to actually playing baseball, he’s surprisingly almost clueless.

                “I’m not particularly talented as a player,” he admits to the team humbly, as though he was a mediocre player rather than one who learned his baseball from TV and, most recently, the Internet. “But I do know how to enhance your basic strengths. I cannot give you much in way of strategies or ways to win, so I hope you boys can find your own style. Rest assured, I will give you my help in any way I can. For the rest of it,” his twinkling eyes rest on me, “please look to your captain.”

                “E-eh?” I wave my hands in a fluster. “N-no, it’s not like I’m particularly good either…”

                Even compared to Takeuchi, I’m not much. But—

                I take a deep breath. “The new guys might not know this, but the baseball club is in a really bad pinch. I’m sorry to wait until after you joined to tell you.” I bow down low. It was selfish of me, but the only thing I could think of was to not scare them away. “If we can’t find eleven players and participate in at least the first round of the national qualifiers, the club will be disbanded.”

                There are murmurs coming from the new members, and the seniors fidget uncomfortably. Of all the players, only Wolfram is standing with his back straight, looking sure and determined. Suddenly I realize it doesn’t help to have the captain bending his back either.

                I’m the captain. I straighten up and hold my gaze steady, meeting each of my players one by one. Slowly, the commotion dies down. Wolfram smirks a little, and I think I see approval.

                That gives me a whole new level of confidence. Behind me, Conrad puts an encouraging hand on my shoulder.

                I’m the captain. I shouldn’t bow to anyone.

                “Everybody—Let’s go to Koshien! Together!”

                “Yeah!”

 

 

But when I go back to my locker, I find nails in my shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is getting... serious? Was it ever not serious? I feel as though the tone never really changed, but idk~ But there will still be fluff, because Wolfram.


	12. What I Do Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri is trapped in his thoughts about Wolfram, carrots, and tights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeaah, that summary... is the best I could think of.

_“This is serious, Shibuya.”_

                After what Murata said that day about me ignoring him, I make sure to at least call him once a day. And that night I stupidly mentioned the writing and the nails to him.

                “Nah, it’s not that bad. After all, it’s just a few people. I’m sure it’ll all blow over soon enough.”

                _“They tried to hurt you.”_

                “But the point is, they didn’t. I noticed the nails before putting on my shoes, no harm done.”

                _“What if they try harder?”_

                “Then I’ll just have to be more careful,” I say firmly. “It’s fine, Murata.”

                _“Are you really sure it’s just because you’re close with the foreigners? This seems a bit blown out of proportion for that.”_

                My heart sinks a little when I remember that other word written on my table, but I shake it away. Surely that has nothing to do with it. I think—No, I know I’ve been careful. So careful.

                “I don’t know, Murata. People get jealous over the strangest things.” A particular angelic scowl comes to mind. I still haven’t figured out how that guy gets ticked off so easily.

                _“Hm, you’re right about that. Even after all this time, human nature is still a mystery to me.”_

                “What do you mean, after all this time?” I say teasingly. “Don’t sound so old, you’re just a high-schooler like me.”

                _“Of course, how silly of me to forget.”_

                By the time I end the call, my mind has moved away from the events of the day to our conversation that time. Murata insisted on telling me some basic history of that world, but just enough so he could tell his story. Besides, he said, all that he knew happened a long, long time ago.

                The world his soul’s predecessor came from, Wolfram and Conrad’s home world. Everything may have changed in the time in between, or nothing at all.

                Murata was hesitant to say too much about it, and I encouraged him to talk only about what he knew, what he wanted to tell me. So I listened to his many stories, not personally his but those he experienced in his memories. And at the end of it all, looking so much older and yet so much lighter, Murata made me promise to never think of him as anyone else but Murata Ken.

                It was a promise I was more than happy to give.

                 There was just one thing. Murata seemed to consider it over and over and over again, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it without saying anything many times, before he finally threw caution to the winds:

                _“Bielefeld recognized me.”_

So Wolfram and Murata were sharing that behind my back. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I can’t say I’m not the least bit hurt either. Throughout our conversation, I noticed that Murata was careful not to mention anything about why Wolf and the others were here. It was as though he was afraid to make any conclusions about them.

                “Yuuri, aren’t you coming to bed?”

                “Sure, in a sec.”

                I had gotten tired of falling onto Wolfram and having him fall onto me, so I just pulled out another futon to squeeze onto the floor next to his. We had to move my desk away and everything just to make space, and I still wake up with his arm crushing my neck, but it’s better without that extra element of surprise and gravity.

                I was also trying to save my bed before it collapsed from his constant kicking, but now I find myself squashed between a pretty boy and a bedpost instead. Still, I keep telling myself, it’s an improvement.

                ...Oh, how I have fallen.

                Wolfram is lying in bed with a textbook, brow furrowed so deep I could put a tissue there and it would stick. I reach over to massage his forehead without thinking.

                “Don’t look at the book so closely, you’ll hurt your eyes.”

                “I never used to study so hard.” He swats my fingers away, annoyed that I would get in his way. I wonder if he realizes he’s pouting now. “Japanese is so difficult.”

                “It’s not, really. It’s just different from your language.” I suddenly remember that challenge letter he gave me that first day in school. No wonder I couldn’t read it, it’s in a language from another world. “I bet it would be just as hard for me to learn your language.”

                Wolfram finally looks away from the book, his gaze on me complicated. “No, I think it might be easier than you expect.” He grimaces, still managing to look beautiful with his features contorted in disgust. “It would probably be easier than Classical Japanese, anyway. Hey, help me with this part.”

                “Urk--”

                “Don’t tell me… Yuuri, how are your results?”

                “Average, I guess…?”

                “I don’t believe you. You’re terrible at this too, aren’t you?”

                “…well, at least I can read it…”

                “In that case, you had no right to laugh at me all those times!”

                “W-wait, I never laughed at you!”

                “You did, don’t lie! I can read it on your face.”

                “Eh? Was I really that obvious?”

                “Hah! Caught you!”

                “—That’s not fair!”

                Another plus side to having two futons on the floor is that I could wrestle him on equal ground when he catches me with his words. By that I mean literally equal ground, because he almost always beats me in skill and strength.

                “Aaaah—darn you, Wolf! I’ll train and train and become stronger than you, I swear! …Wolf?”

                But it seems he has a weakness. Even though he still has his arms around my neck in a stranglehold, his grip loosens unconsciously.

                He’s fallen asleep.

                “No way… Just how crazy are your sleeping habits?”

                His eyes, even closed, still look tired. I even fancy bags forming underneath them. He really has been working extra hard to learn Japanese, huh? I can barely understand history and geography and all that as it is, just imagine doing them all in a language I don’t know—

                “Why are you working so hard, Wolf? What’s your objective?”

                I didn’t ask Murata to tell me more about that world, not only because he didn’t want to. Somehow, I want Wolfram to be the one telling me about it.

                He doesn’t even know that I know. I poke his nose, a bit irritated at that. In response, he mumbles incoherently and smacks me across the face as he turns in his sleep.

                …I guess I deserved that.

                “Are you ever going to tell me?”

                I don’t want to let on that I figured out he’s from another world, because I still can’t shake off the feeling he doesn’t want me to know. I can’t even begin to guess why—there’s no way his secret mission or whatever it is has anything to do with regular ol’ me. I’m not like Murata.

                For a second I picture Wolfram and Murata running around the town at night in costumes and capes. Who would be in all black and who would be the one in tights? Uwaa—that would explain why he falls asleep so easily. But then again, he keeps me up all night sometimes, so I should know better than anyone that he doesn’t go anywhere once he’s asleep.  He sleeps like a log, except one that rolls around. A lot.

                I also know that he secretly likes rabbit-shaped apples, but he’s still not fond of flower-shaped carrots. And there’s the strange way he snores when he sleeps, does he even know he does that? And that time he drank a whole can of my father’s beer without so much as batting an eyelid, I bet he still doesn’t know that’s alcohol. Or does he think all teenagers can drink beer that easily?

                I wriggle free of one arm so I can put his book away, and pause for a moment. There’s a tiny sketch on the corner of the page, a creature that looks like a bear crossed with a… bee?

                It’s adorable. Is it from his home world?

                I’m still curious, but suddenly I’m not as anxious for him to tell me anymore. Because it seems that I know quite a bit about him already, things he doesn’t know I know.

                Of course, there are also things I never want him to know, like how my mom has to comment on our positions every time she comes to wake us up in the mornings.

 

When I open my locker at school one week later, a barrage of razors tumble out.

                “—Ow!” I react instinctively, and cry out before I can stop myself. As expected, there was no way I could hide this from Wolfram, not this time. The sharp blades slice open my palm, and cut a long line through my trousers on their way to the ground. I feel the sting of skin just starting to part.

                “Yuuri!” Wolfram is by my side in no time at all, grabbing my hand so tightly he squeezes out a few more drops of blood. You’re really not helping… “Who is it!? Who did this!”

                The students around us all avert their gazes, turning their faces away. No one steps out to admit it, but no one is exactly laughing at me either. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I’m not completely hated.

                “Relax, Wolf. It just cut a bit of skin, see?”

                “That’s more than a bit.”

                “Either way, I’ll need to get this bandaged up before class. And don’t look like that, I’m not skipping class for something like this.”

                Suddenly I wonder what Murata would say if he found out I got hurt after all, despite everything I said yesterday. Well, I suppose that makes it my fault then. I even got a fair warning from the enemy… sort of.

                “I was too careless, huh?”

                “Exactly!” Wolfram is still fuming as he drags me to the infirmary. “You, of all people, can’t be this carefree about your own safety! I knew we should have told Conrart about it as soon as we saw that vandalism on your table.”

                In that case, I’m glad I didn’t tell him about the nails. “But Wolf, if we went to the teachers, won’t those people hate me even more?”

                “You can’t be this lax with people, Yuuri. You have to learn, some people deserve to punished.”

                I stare at his side profile, his features hard and stern. It’s at times like this when I’m forced to remember we’re from different worlds. How did he grow up in that world?

                “What made you so harsh?”

                “It’s called being fair.”

               

After class, Conrad pulls us aside, his voice particularly grave.

                “I’m sorry, Yuuri, but we couldn’t find out who's doing this.” He looks tired, and slightly on edge. “No matter who we ask, we keep meeting resistance. The students, even the other teachers—It’s as though they made a silent agreement not to speak. It’s probably because we’re still new here, Gurrier and I just can’t make any ground.”

                If a nail stands out, it should be beaten down… is how the saying goes, right? I seem like the only target right now, but the atmosphere towards my new friends has changed. It’s probably because they stand out so much, and it doesn’t help that they’re rallying around me.

                “Con—Weller-sensei,” I lower my head. “Sorry for troubling you, and thank you for caring. It really means a lot to me.”

                “Yuuri—”

                “But!” I interrupt him firmly. “In school, teachers mustn’t show obvious favoritism, got it? I don’t know how it’s like where you come from—” I raise my voice here so the others can hear me, “—but over here, there are clear boundaries. We have to respect those boundaries, or it’ll make people uncomfortable.”

                These foreigners are throwing me off. When I’m with them, it almost feels like a different world already. But I must remember, we’re still on Earth. In Japan. And there are rules we have to follow.

                “…I understand, Shibuya-kun.” Conrad needs to work on his acting skills, he looks pained even saying my last name. As expected of my godfather, I guess. “However, do be careful. And I think you should excuse yourself from baseball practice today.”

                Oh, I forgot about that.

                And so, for the first time since I joined the club and immediately became captain, I have to sit at the sidelines and watch my teammates play without me. It’s not all bad, though. By taking an outsider’s point of view, I can see things more clearly.

                “Takeuchi’s practicing really hard, isn’t he?” I say to Conrad when he comes back to the bench. “His friends aren’t that motivated, but he seems to have improved even since a lot over the last week."

                “He’s just relearning what he forgot, that’s why his pitch seems so much smoother.” Conrad offers me my water bottle, which I take rather guiltily with my bandaged arm. In comparison to my team, I’m not sweating as much as I should at all. So to keep myself occupied, I take out my notebook and start writing down my observations.

                “Yuu-chan, are you trying to do my job for me as well?” Gurrier sounds amused. As our manager, his main job seems to be calling breaks and cheering us on in ways that make us more embarrassed than encouraged. For example, he won’t call me by my family name even after Conrad told him what I said earlier. I can only be grateful he’s not teaching my class, because having another teacher calling me ‘Yuu-chan’ in class really won’t do much for my problems.

                It’s easy to disregard him as another clueless outsider, but then I remember that just like Wolfram and Conrad, he must be here for a reason. And he was probably chosen for that reason.

                “Gurrier-sensei—”

                “Call me Gurie-chan.”

                See what I mean? But I mustn’t let myself be deceived by his act. I shake myself and try again, “Gurrier, what do you think of our players?”

                As the manager, he only ever holds a baseball bat when he’s handing one to us. But one afternoon of watching from the bench taught me that there is more to be seen when you’re away from the action.

                “Aww, Yuu-chan, you know I’m clueless when it comes to baseball~” But his sly gaze is telling me that there is more to it than what he’s saying. It’s almost like… he’s testing me.

                Come to think of it, that was the feeling I used to get from Wolfram too. What is with these otherworldly people, do I need to pass a test to be their friend?

                Well – I puff up my chest – in that case, this is a test I intend to ace.

                “There’s something else, isn’t there?” I try to work my brain. Murata always says I exercise my muscles a lot more than my mind. If he was here, I bet he could figure out Josak’s puzzle in no time at all. “Is it something to do with our motivation? I thought we’re pretty passionate as it is.”

                “Oh, don’t worry, I can smell your teenage spirit from a mile away. It is great to be young, isn’t it?”

                How old are you? I realize I never asked, but that’s going off topic. “Is it about our teamwork, then?”

                He doesn’t reply at first, so I observe my teammates a bit more closely, trying to find something amiss. They sure seem to be working perfectly fine with each other. Wolfram is slightly more reluctant, but the seniors respect and even listen to Takeuchi—

                I pause.

                “A merry bunch, aren’t they?” Gurrier’s voice sounds just a little sarcastic to my ears. “Considering their captain is here with me on the bench. They don’t miss you much, do they, Yuu-chan?”

                “Josak!” Conrad says sharply.

                “What~? It’s the truth, and Yuu-chan here should have noticed it by now.”

                There’s no mistaking the edge of cynicism in his voice now. “Yuu-chan, your throne is being usurped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this should be a good time to mention that this isn't ending in fifteen... maybe twenty?


	13. The Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri has to prove his worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if everyone knew the culprit from the start, lol.

“I know who it is.” Wolfram’s expression is grim when he tosses his gloves onto the bench. “It’s that new guy, isn’t it? That Take-something.”

                I stare at him wordlessly, still lost in my own thoughts.

                “Yuuri, say something!”

                He’s more talented than me, he works hard, and the others like him…

                “Maybe I should just let him.” If he wants to be captain, I shouldn’t be selfish and keep the position when someone else can do it better than me.

                “Hah!?” Wolfram grabs me by the collar, lifting me off the bench. “What are you talking about, wimp? I know you’re a pacifist, but are you really going to just lie down and let him kill you!?”

                It’s been a while since he called me that seriously.

                “If he wants the job, I can just give it to him. There’s no need for him to kill me for it.”

                “Job? What job?”

                …It seems we’re on different pages altogether. “The job of team captain, of course. What do you think I mean?”

                “Who cares about that!?”

                I feel suddenly, inexplicably angry. “He does, obviously.” And even though I don’t want to admit it, so do I. Of course I do.

                “Idiot,” Wolfram growls, “That’s not what he’s after. Or rather, that’s not all he’s after.” He picks up my bandaged hand roughly. “Have you forgotten about this already?”

                “Wha—You think he’s behind this?” I look at him in confusion. “Why?”

                When Takeuchi first came up to me, he said he understood how I felt, being branded a teacher’s pet. But… that’s not all there is, is it? All the possibilities rush up at once and wreak havoc in my head. He’s in my class, so he could easily have written those words there. And—

                Conrad frowns, the silver glint in his eyes as dangerous as any blade. “He’s the principal’s son, right?”

                “No wonder the teachers wouldn’t bend, no matter how much I turned on my charms.” Gurrier tsks. “This goes all the way to the highest level, eh? What did Yuu-chan do to get an enemy like that?”

                Yeah, what did I do? I hold my head. Did I ever borrow his pencil and forget to return it? Did I steal his girlfriend or something? Yeah, right. So what could I have done?

                Nothing. Before Wolfram and the others came into my life, I did nothing.

                “I don’t understand…” I look up again, staring at where our prime suspect is laughing with the seniors. He and his friends fit into the team so easily, it’s as though they were there from the start. Sitting on the bench with these three, it suddenly occurs to me that I must seem like an outsider to them as well. “Maybe…” My mind is racing. “He did say his parents forced him to stop playing baseball, right? Maybe it’s like Josak says, and he just wants my job.”

                In that case, I just have to give it to him, and everything will end… right?

                “I don’t think it’s that simple,” Conrad muses. “You say he joined after he saw the writing on your desk, yes? Which means it began before he was even in the club.”

                 “He joined to get closer to you,” Wolfram says decisively. “I told you to be more careful about who you keep around you, Yuuri! Now look what you got yourself into.”

                “What could I have done?” I snap back. “I can’t just go around suspecting everybody.”

                “That’s exactly what you should have done!”

                I shake my head hard at that. “No. That just sounds tiring.” When Wolfram looks like he still wants to protest, I cut him off quickly. “You princes may be used to that sort of thing, but I’m just a regular boy, don’t you get it? I don’t want to live like that!”

                I raise my voice just a little bit at the end, and for some reason a deathly silence falls over us. Not just Wolfram, but Conrad and Josak too. For a moment it’s as though something slips, and they look at me in a way that’s unfamiliar and unreadable. As though they’re each trying to comprehend what I just said.

                And then the moment passes, and they make their conclusions. Conrad beams at me, Wolfram grimaces but doesn’t look altogether displeased, if a bit troubled. Only Josak remains unreadable.

               

I still don’t feel right accusing anyone without proof, but Wolfram insists on confronting Takeuchi about it. And the guy doesn’t know anything about subtlety.

                “Hey, everybody, get over here! Yuuri wants to say something.”

                Ahh, don’t make it sound like I’m summoning them to give them a decree. I’m a democratically-elected captain, not a dictator. Come to think of it, do they have democracies over there?

                “Yuuri!”

                “Yeah, yeah.” I step up in front of the gathered team, feeling nervous. After all this time, I’m still awkward about acting like a leader in front my peers and especially my seniors. Eh, wait, wasn’t Tajima-senpai the one who roped me into being captain? He didn’t even ask me, so did he ask the others? What if I wasn’t elected by majority vote after all?

                Crap, now I’m even more uneasy.

                Wolfram nudges me in the side, hard enough to leave a bruise. I look at him grudgingly before turning to the rest of the team,

                “So, uh… I heard there were questions… about the captaincy.”

                “That’s not what we were talking about,” Wolfram hisses in my ear, and I push him down. Conrad is smiling at me encouragingly, while Josak is watching with his arms folded and a glint in his eye. I take a deep breath.

                “Is there anyone who thinks I shouldn’t be captain?”

                There is a confused silence as the seniors and Takeuchi’s friends look at each other, trying to figure out what I was talking about. My heart sinks when I notice Takeuchi gazing resolutely at the floor. He won’t say anything, but now that I’ve put it out there, I can’t take it back. I have to address him first.

                “Takeuchi-kun?” My voice sounds strangled in my throat. “Do you, perhaps…”

                He keeps his head lowered for a while longer, and then he raises his gaze, his expression incomprehensible. “Shibuya Yuuri, I challenge you to a match. One on one.”

                How does that even work?

                He gets up without looking at me. “We take turns pitching and batting. Three strikes to out, the one who can get the first hit with the fewest balls wins. How does that sound?”

                “Just hold on there, Yuuri is a pitcher—”

                “No, Wolf, it’s fine.” Takeuchi’s strength is in pitching too, and the rules sound fair enough to me. “I accept. When is the match?”

                “Now.” Takeuchi picks up his bat. “Do you want to pitch first, or bat first?”

                I fumble for a coin in my pocket. “Heads, I pitch. Tails, you go.”

                “Sure.”

                It feels as though the whole world is silent as the coin flips through the air. It lands on my palm with a soft thump, and only then do I remember that my palm is all bandaged up. Beside me, Wolfram claps his hand to his face, muttering idiot. And opposite me, there is already an edge of triumph on Takeuchi’s face.

                So he really was the culprit? My resolve is only strengthened. I need to find out what he has against me, and this seems to be the fairest way to make him talk.

                The coin comes up heads.

                “Time-out,” Conrad calls out calmly, breaking the silence before the atmosphere got too suffocating. “Takeuchi-kun, I do not want to take any sides in this, but considering the fact that Shibuya-kun is injured, could he at least get the chance to change his bandages first?”

                “Of course.”

                Wolfram doesn’t wait after that. He pulls me away by the injured hand, gripping it tightly. This is some sort of punishment, isn’t it? As if I haven’t been hurt enough.

                “Wolf, I still need to play—”

                “What were you thinking!?”

                He has to be the most unkind nurse ever, practically tearing off my bandages and wrapping the new ones tighter than I wrap my bat’s grip. I know it’s to prevent the barely closed-up wound from bleeding out, but at this rate there won’t be any blood in my hand at all.

                “O-ow—Wolf, please… I can’t feel my fingers…”

                “Serves you right! You wimp, you moron, you stupid idiot!” Never once did he stop scolding me, but his hands do become gentler. When he finally ties the ends of the bandages into a neat bow on the back of my hand, I flex my fingers and feel just a bit more confident.

                Then he claps my hand hard, and shoves me onto the field as though tired of my face.

                I walk onto the mound a bit crestfallen. “Hey, Conrad, is your brother always this rough with people?”

                “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually his way of caring for you. In fact, some people find his scolding therapeutic.”

                “Hah? What kind of M’s like being scolded?” Though when I glance back at him, still pouting and fuming, I guess it would be good enough to have that angel-like boy pay any attention to you, even if he’s nagging your ear off.

                “Think of it as his version of a lucky charm.” Conrad claps me on the back. He hesitates. “And… this is mine.”

                Conrad undoes the first button on his shirt and pulls out the cord he always wore around his neck. I never knew what was on the end of that string. It turns out to be a beautiful blue stone pendant. In the distance, Josak whistles. I can feel Takeuchi’s poisonous gaze on me already.

                Hey, hey, Conrad, what was that about not taking sides? But I can’t say it, not when he looks so serious. Instead, I just stretch out my neck towards him, feeling that same sense of excitement and apprehension as though I’m accepting a medal. He puts it around my neck with the same seriousness, too.

                The stone feels warm on my chest, a gentle and comforting warmth. On the other end of the pitch, Wolfram looks a little jealous, turning his nose up at us.

                “Are you done yet?” Takeuchi taps his foot impatiently.

                “Y-yeah. Wait, who’s the catcher?”

                “—I’ll do it,” Tajima-senpai says suddenly. “And I promise I’ll be fair.”

                As first-years, even though we’re competing for the role of captain, we’re still not going to question our senior’s integrity. In fact, I’m pretty sure the captain before I came was Tajima-senpai himself, and I think Takeuchi came to the same conclusion. In that case, he has more say in this than anyone else.

                He puts on the catcher’s armour and crouches down behind the batter’s box. Takeuchi swings his bat once, twice, and settles into position.

                My heart is pounding out of my chest. The blood beats in my ears, deafening me and threatening to throw me off balance. This won’t do. I’m acting like a rookie in my first match.

                I take up a deep breath, wind up, and throw.

                The ball is a straight that drops just a little lower, as I had hoped. Takeuchi swings but doesn’t connect. It hits the catcher’s glove with a satisfying thunk. Although that’s his first strike, Takeuchi calmly adjusts his grips and quickly gets back into position. On the other hand, even though my first pitch went as well as I could have hoped, my heart sinks a little as I catch the ball back from the catcher.

                This is what I get for forgetting to warm up properly. My wrist feels strange, probably because I overexerted with that throw. And my palm feels cold in a bad way. I shake it off, and prepare to throw again.

                This time he connects, but just barely. The ball flies high and into a tree.

                “Foul,” Tajima-senpai announces, as Ookawa-senpai runs to retrieve the ball.

                “What’s the matter, Shibuya?” Takeuchi asks quietly. “Not in form today?”

                I grit my teeth, and catch the toss from Tajima-senpai. My hand and face both feel raw. I wind up, and throw my third pitch.

                The ball flies wildly to the far right, and Tajima dives for it. Takeuchi hasn’t budged from where he stands, his gaze like beams cutting into me.

                “Ball.”

                I lower my gaze, reaching out my hand to adjust the cap I’m not wearing. When I get the ball back, I see a tiny trace of blood on it.

                He connects solidly with the third pitch, and sends the ball flying past the third base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Disclaimer, I know jacksh*t about baseball, whee~


	14. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the results of the match are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on with my shady knowledge of baseball, based off anime~ but not for the whole thing, thank goodness =w=

“Yuuri.”

                When I take my place in the batter’s box, Wolfram finally gives up his pouting and runs up to me, his grip hard on my shoulder. “Yuuri, you’re hurt.”

                I shake my head, swinging my bat and digging my shoe into the ground for a better grip. I know the blood has stained through the bandages. I’m still wondering how to get blood off a baseball, or I’ll have wasted a perfectly good ball. It seems the wound has opened up again, and – I’ll never tell Wolfram this – may have gotten even worse after those pitches. It stings when I wrap my palm around the grip.

                I settle into batting stance, swing, and miss spectacularly.

                “Strike.”

                Something warm is trickling down my wrist. Haphazardly I wipe my hand on my baseball uniform, where the red streak strands out like a brand against the white. Dammit, now Mom will never stop asking me what happened. Hopefully she won’t ask me to wash my own uniform, though.

                The blood loss is distracting me, and making me slightly dizzy. I’m not even sure when the next pitch comes whizzing past, and by the time I recover it has already landed squarely in the catcher’s glove.

                “Strike.”

                I always said Takeuchi is a good pitcher. Or maybe I’m just a bad batter.

                No matter what, I won’t let this next ball past.

                His image on the mound is blurred. It’s not as bad as me seeing two of him—I only see one and a half of him. There he goes, he’s winding up, he throws—

                I swing with everything I have. The momentum takes me off my feet, but before I land, I feel the bat connect. Even as I fall, I watch the ball soar, above my head—

                It makes a small arc in the sky before landing in the catcher’s glove. I close my eyes just as my face hits the ground.

                “Yuuri--!”

                I try to prop myself up, but hiss in pain when my palm connects with the ground. I had no idea it was bleeding this much, enough to leave a bloody handprint on the soil. I lift myself just enough to cough out the dirt in my nose, and then my shoulders are pulled up by several pairs of strong hands.

                “Yuuri, are you okay?”

                “Yuuri, you idiot!”

                The voices are a mangled mess, but I can still tell one from another. As Wolfram and Conrad fuss over me, Josak stands watch like a guardian hawk. Don’t these guys get it--?

                I push them aside, struggling to stand on my own. I was cut in the palm, why are my legs so weak? Then I remember that the razors had made a scratch on my thigh too when they cut my trousers in the morning. Has that opened up too?

                That doesn’t matter. What’s important now is that I stand up on my own.

                “Yuuri, don’t be stubborn,” Wolfram growls. “You lost so much blood, for goodness’ sake just let us—”

                I shake my head, and shove away my last source of support.

                “That’s the whole issue, haven’t you noticed? I can’t rely on you.”

                This is why I’m facing this trial in the first place. I had almost forgotten what I said to Takeuchi that day—that in baseball, when you’re out on the field, everything you do is on you alone. If I rely on them now, I’ll become a hypocrite.

                Even if I lose, I’ll lose with dignity.

                “You lose.”

                But it still hurts to be told that to my face, dammit.

                “Yeah.” I lower my head. “Since I lost, the captain of the team will be—”

                “Hold on.”

                The one who interrupts is Tajima-senpai, who lifts his mask as he walks towards us, stopping in between the two of us. “Now, I don’t recall ever agreeing to make the winner captain. That was completely between the two of you.”

                All the blood drains out of Takeuchi’s face. “But--!”

                “As expected of hot-blooded juniors, you shouldn’t get ahead of yourselves like that.” Ookawa-senpai joins his friend. “But I have to say, that was quite entertaining.”

                Wolfram jabs a finger in my cheek angrily. “Look how pale Yuuri is! You call that entertaining!?”

                I’m touched that you care so much, but your finger in my face isn’t helping, really.

                “Shibuya.” Kitamura-senpai holds up my palm, his brow knitting themselves into a knot when he sees the completely blood-soaked bandages. “That was reckless of you.”

                Wolfram snatches my hand away from the quiet senior, holding me like a protective mother bear. I want to protest— If you cuddle me like this, everything I wanted to prove will be wasted. But at the same time, I’m just so tired. And his embrace is as warm as ever.

                “If you want to, Yuuri, just sleep.”

                “I’m not that weak,” I echo him from so long ago.

                “No, you’re not.” Tajima claps me on the shoulder so hard I could almost feel the bone crack. At least it brings the color back to my face, I hope. “As expected of the guy I chose, Shibuya, that was a great display of guts.”

                So you admit you chose me?

                “Don’t make it sound like you did everything,” Ookawa says, annoyed. “We all decided on him, didn’t we? You just asked him first, which was wrong of you, by the way.”

                “What do you mean, I just struck while the iron was hot! Imagine, what if I was late to offer him the place and he was snatched up by another club?”

               Wait, does that mean I was democratically-elected after all? And don’t worry, senpai, no other club would want me.

                I’m still surprised you do.

                “I keep forgetting to return your towel,” Kitamura says softly. “And thank you.”

                For what?

                “Look, I know we’re not very good players.” Tajima scratches his head. “We just like playing. If you’re saying the better player should be captain, then we can’t say anything. But that’s not how you choose a captain, is it?”

                Tajima’s gaze meets mine, and he holds it there. “Shibuya, I think I never thanked you properly.”

                “…What for?”

                “For letting us continue playing.” He digs the ball of his foot into the ground like a shy little girl. “When I asked you to join—”

                “You forced him.”

                “Shut up, Ookawa! What I meant was, it’s all because of you that we’re still here, isn’t it? And that day with the Student Council…” This time he scratches his face. “I have to say… I mean, we all thought that… you were kinda cool.”

                Wolfram’s grip tightens on my shoulder. Wolf, you do know I’m injured, right?

                “Just get on with it, Tacchan.”

                Tajima takes a deep breath. “Let’s have a vote. Who wants Shibuya to stay as captain?”

                His own hand shoots up before he finishes asking the question. Ookawa casually raises his as well, and Kitamura follows with an expression of quiet determination. Takeuchi’s face has gone expressionless, and his two friends glance around nervously, completely out of their depth.

                Suddenly, all eyes are on me—no, they’re on the person behind me.

                “Wolf?”

                “Are you always this reckless?” I can’t see his face, but his voice is heavy. “If you’ll go this far all the time, maybe you shouldn’t be captain.”

                “H-hey!” I jump to my feet, and then sway there for a while until the flashing lights fade. Dammit, a small wound and a little blood loss like that shouldn’t affect me so much. Is it because I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately? Or am I dehydrated? At this rate, there’s no way Wolfram would let me—

                When my vision finally clears, I see his hand raised reluctantly.

                “So that’s settled then.” Tajima claps his hands together. “Great show, boys, but the captain stays the same. Also, Cap’n Shibuya, I suggest consulting your teammates before you go and pull a stunt like that again.”

                The seniors walk past me, heading to the dressing rooms. But Tajima touches my shoulder one more time as he passes by,

                “After all, we’re a team. No one is alone on the field, so rely on us a bit more, why don’t you?”

                …It seems I had gotten it all wrong.

                “Hey, Take-something.” Wolfram stops my opponent before he can slip past us, while his two friends make a run for it. Couldn’t you at least try to remember his name after all that? “We still have some business left with you.”

                “Wait, Wolf—”

                “Didn’t you hear your senior? Rely on us for a change, wimp.”

                But that’s all I’ve been doing all this time.

                “I understand that you want to fight your own battles sometimes,” Conrad whispers into my ear. “But I think you’ve done enough today, don’t you?”              

                “Hey, you! Get away from Yuuri!”

                “He really doesn’t like you,” I say without thinking.

                Conrad smiles, patting my shoulder. “I got used to it. Congratulations for winning, by the way. Why don’t you keep the pendant as a prize?”

                I didn’t win, I want to say. But then again, I don’t think I lost in the end, either.

                “Spit it out! You’re the one who did all those things to Yuuri, aren’t you!?”

                Takeuchi’s face stays impassive. “So what if I am?”

                Whoa, I didn’t expect him to confess so readily. He seems to read the surprise on my face, sneering, “But I’m not the only one to feel that way. Shibuya, you won’t always have your way with things.”

                I shake my head, trying to clear away the dizziness and confusion. “What do you mean? I mean, why?”

                Why me? What did I do to you?

                Takeuchi gestures at Wolfram, who is now holding his arms behind his back, and then glares at Conrad and Josak. So it’s something to do with them after all? Wait, could it be about their mission?

                “You know about them?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. Josak’s eyes flash, while Wolfram’s widen in surprise.

                Takeuchi’s features, on the other hand, contort in a strange twisted triumph. “See? I knew you were one of them.”

                “Me?” I’m even more confused than ever. “What do I have to do with this?”

                “Yuu—” Wolfram tries to interrupt, but Conrad stops him.

                “You lot sure must be used to getting your way with things.” Takeuchi’s dark gaze flits from one of us to the other. Accusing. “I thought those were just crazy rumors, but to think they’re actually true. A secret organization that controls the world from behind the scenes… Do you know how my father felt? This is his school, he worked for years to make it what it is now. Then a stranger makes a call, and he has no choice but to accept a student he knows nothing about, one that might very well be illegal. Can you imagine what a slap to the face that was to him?”

                I glance at Wolfram, who seems unperturbed.

                “And it doesn’t end there. On the same stranger’s whim, he has to compromise on his staff as well. Sure, they promised no risk to the school if the newcomers cause trouble, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Just a call, without even meeting face-to-face, and we have to accommodate. We have to make changes, accept it, and not ask questions.” Takeuchi spits onto the ground. “It must sure be nice, taking everything you want without even having to ask.”

                “What are you talking about? What do you mean, a secret organization?” It’s not any more far-fetched than my other world theory, but that theory has been proven. After all, Murata even told me about that other race in the other world, the people known as the—

                “Mazoku.”

                My head whips up, and he jeers at the recognition on my face.

                “Salarymen, politicians, doctors, famous movie stars and singers. They’re everywhere. Some people call them names like the Illuminati or the Black Hand or satan worshippers. But I know what they call themselves.”

                Takeuchi’s eyes are wild. “Demons, the mazoku. Playing around with our human lives like we’re nothing. Just look around you.”

                I raise my head to look at Conrad and Wolfram. Neither of them would meet my eyes.

                “Aw, c’mon. We’re not as bad as that.”

                Slowly, I turn to face the voice that interrupted with a cheerfulness that sounds completely out of place. A familiar figure is standing in the distance, surrounded by a few more intimidating adults. Even from here, that carefree smile and the glint of sunlight from his glasses hurt my eyes.

                Read the atmosphere, Murata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now my headcanon. Mazoku = Illuminati confirmed


	15. Welcome to the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many things are exposed... but some are left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These comments really keep me going, guys! Thanks~ owo

“So, I’m a… demon?”

                “Yup.”

                “…Where are my wings and tail?”

                “You know, that’s exactly what your mother keeps asking me,” my old man sighs. Next to him, my mother wails, “I wanted the tail at least! Can you imagine how adorable a baby demon would be!? Just imagine!”

                “But Mrs Shibuya, aren’t we cute enough as we are?” Murata pokes his cheeks with his index fingers. “By the way, Shibuya, I insist on seeing your baby pictures again.”

                “That might not be possible, I’m afraid we haven’t been able to find Yuu-chan’s pictures for some time now…” My mom looks troubled. “The last time we took them out was when Conrad and the others first came here.”

                Ah, so is that what Wolfram and Conrad were distributing among themselves the other day? Also, Wolf, your pillow crunches every time I fluff them, are you sure that’s a good hiding place?

                “By the way, Ken-chan! You know I don’t like you calling me that. Jennifer, call me Jennifer!”

                “Of course, Jennifer-san.”

                My mother pouts, acting like she’s half her age. Apparently mazoku age differently? But she’s human. On the other hand, my old man keeps saying he’s younger than Conrad, even though Conrad looks half his age. But isn’t my old man mazoku too? This is confusing.

                At least I’m not the only one clueless. In the corner, Shouri is still muttering darkly, “He told me I would become the governor of Tokyo.”

                “Now, now, Shou-chan, you’d be getting something even better! From governor to maou, don’t you think that’s a promotion?”

                “Besides, you can part-time as governor if you really want it.”

                Hey hey hey, I thought we got past the times when parents forced their kids into a career they don’t like. And don’t talk about the highest seat in Tokyo as though it’s a job at the convenience store, part-timing something like that is irresponsible towards the people who elected you.

                Wait, what am I talking about? He hasn’t even started running yet, for now he’s still an otaku college student.

                I look at my brother up and down with a critical eye. “Are you sure this guy could make a good king?”

                The foreign doctor with dreadlocks that seems attached to Murata shrugs in a very American way. “What can we say? The boss chose him.”

                So the maou is chosen. I peek at Wolfram, who’s standing beside me defensively with his arms folded. I wonder, is it the same in his world?

                “It’s the same in your world, right?”

                Wolfram nods instinctively to Murata’s question, and then stiffens, carefully avoiding my gaze. I suppose I should act surprised, but I don’t think I’m that good an actor, so I’m actually kind of glad he’s not looking at me right now. The atmosphere in the room is rather tense, as though we’re attending a top secret meeting among leaders. Well, it’s true that the future maou of Earth is here, but we’re in my living room. Look, my dogs are even sleeping on the guests’ feet. I’m sorry, I just can’t get too serious about this.

                “Let me get this straight,” I break the silence. “We’re not human? What are mazoku?”

                “Oh, we’re just a bunch of people who stick together. There’s nothing so sinister about that, except you don’t know where we’re watching from, see?” Rodriguez explains happily. No, that is kinda sinister. “Biologically, most of us are no different from regular humans. Our ancestors came from that other world, but after all these years, we went native, y’see. Of course, there are special cases.”

                Murata nods imperceptibly. “The current maou is rather mysterious as well, so be careful not to get on his bad side, Shibuya.”

                “What, that old man?” Shouri scoffs. “The only thing that’s mysterious about him is how he can dance the samba at his age.”

                “How old is he?” I ask curiously. Shouri opens his mouth to answer, and then realizes he can’t. So I look around the room, and even Rodriguez shakes his head. Murata is the one to pull up a picture on his phone to show me, saying thoughtfully,

                “He’s looked like this since World War II.”

                …The Demon King is Robert de Niro? I should have guessed.

                “No, wait! That can’t be right, he looked a lot younger in _The Godfather_.”

                “You watched that, Shibuya?” Murata puts his phone phone, looking surprised.

                “Yeah, my dad showed me on DVD.”

                “De Niro’s in the second movie, but personally I prefer—”

                Josak clears his throat, and Conrad says kindly, “Your Eminence, aren’t we getting off-topic?”

                The title catches me by surprise, until I remember that Murata said Wolfram recognized him. In that case, it’s only natural that Wolfram would have shared the information with his comrades. So Murata wasn’t kidding when he said that they worshipped him—I mean, his ancestor, back then. Your Eminence, eh? Look, Murata, someone’s calling you a name with ‘Your’ in front!

                “Stop that admiring look, Shibuya, it’s nothing much.” But he seems to preen in the attention just a bit, before regaining his composure. “Very well, we shall go back to the problem at hand… Uh, what’s the problem again?”

                Wolfram finally explodes. “Yuuri was targeted, because of your actions!”

                “Oh, yes, that.” Murata’s gaze on me turns wistful, like a dog left out in the rain. I shudder a bit, feeling overwhelmingly guilty. “Shibuya, you said you would be careful.”

                There’s a moment of silence in the room as I try to hide my injured hand. My mom’s eyes grow red again, though I can’t be sure if she’s going to cry or run out of the house armed with a kitchen knife.

                I cough. “It’s nothing, really!”

                “Nevertheless, it seems our cover is blown.” Rodriguez sighs. “I told Bob he should at least use video calls when pulling in favors like this, just a voice call is too insincere.”

                One of the other people who came with them, a foreign girl mysteriously wearing a kimono, chips in with strongly-accented Japanese, “And don’t forget, he said he didn’t want to blow his cover, so he even used that new voice-changing toy of his.”

                …No matter how you look at it, that’s shady, and kind of mean, too. No wonder the principal was so mad. Speaking of which—

                “You’re not going to do anything to them, are you?” I ask nervously.

                “Who do you mean?”

                “You know who I mean, Takeuchi and his dad.”

                “Shibuya,” Murata says solemnly, “Bullying shouldn’t be allowed no matter what, especially if the victim actually gets hurt. And even worse, your principal abused his power to carry out a personal vendetta, on one of his students.”

                Ah, so that’s why the other teachers wouldn’t respond to Conrad and Josak.

                “As an educator, he has committed the worst breach of trust.”

                The room falls silent again, and suddenly I feel the pressure. Looking around the room, these faces really seem to mean business. Even my parents’ expressions have darkened. All because of me, and I didn’t even know I was one of them until an hour ago. All because of me—

                I take a deep breath. “Sure. I get it, what they did was wrong. I suppose they should be punished for it. But since I’m the one they hurt, do you think I could decide what their punishment is?”

                Murata smiles. “I don’t see why not. What do you think, doctor?”

                Rodriguez shrugs again. “Sure. In fact, Yuuri-kun should teach them not to mess with one of ours.  Ah, but at the same time I don’t like them thinking we’re some super evil secret organization…”

                “Aren’t we, though? We’re mazoku, after all.”

                “Of course we are, but I don’t like them _thinking_ that. So, Yuuri-kun, go easy on them, yeah?”

                My scalp is tingling. These people… I can’t tell if they’re serious. Even Murata, he never told me about a branch of the mazoku here on Earth. To think I was born into something like a secret cult, and he looks so comfortable in it—

                Murata catches my gaze, and flashes me a large grin, complete with a thumbs-up. And inexplicably, my heart stops pounding quite so fast. Of course, I had promised. No matter what, Murata is still just Murata.

                “Right, so that’s settled!” Rodriguez claps his hands together. “Let’s move out, boys, we’re getting in the way of the Shibuyas. Thank you for the hospitality, by the way.”

                “Oh, it’s fine—”

                “Can I stay?” The girl in the kimono raises her hand, quick as lightning. “I want to ask some questions.”

                Rodriguez’s expression turns exasperated. “Fine, but don’t tear the house down.”

                “OK!” She even makes the hand signal, touching her index finger to her thumb. “MR. Shibuya, may I see your koi pond?”

                My father pretends to ignore her, so somehow Shouri replies instead. “Hah? We don’t have anything like that.”

                “WHAT? No way!”

                This is just my own wild guess, but I bet—I just bet—that she’s from America too, isn’t she?

 

“I knew it, I just knew it! Aliens, demons, or giant robots, they always attack either Japan or America.”

                “We’re not attacking anything,” Wolfram huffs, looking a lot more relaxed now that we’re back in our room. “And where is this America, anyway? I don’t understand why you must keep going on about it.”

                “It’s a place very far away.” I lie down on my stomach, head propped in my hands. “If you want to pretend you’re an Earthling, Wolf, you’ll need to know these things.”

                “…You knew?”

                “Only that you’re from another world,” I admit. “Sorry.”

                “What are you apologizing for, you wimp?” He punches his pillow angrily, and I hear that telltale crunch of paper again. I never liked those baby pictures with me in dresses and ribbons, but I don’t know how to feel about them getting crushed up in a pillowcase either. “I was the one keeping secrets from you.”

                “But it’s for your mission, right?” There’s emotion in Wolfram’s voice, and I can tell he doesn’t want me looking at him right now. So I turn over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Looks like I need to clear the cobwebs soon. “Don’t worry, I don’t know anything about that, so your enemies couldn’t beat it out of me even if they tried.”

                “Who said anything about enemies?” Wolfram retorts, and then he falls silent again. “But they got to you anyway. Because of us.”

                I hold up my palm, bandaged again by my mother. “If you’re talking about this, stop worrying, sheesh. You’re worse than my mom.”

                “We got you hurt. That’s unforgivable.”

                “Is that a mazoku code of honor?” I tease him, but when I turn to look at him, his expression is completely serious. Slowly, the smile disappears from my face as well.

                “Yuuri, there are some things I can’t tell you. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

                “Sure, sure.” For some reason, my heart is pounding again. This time, I’m the one who can’t meet his eyes. “You just go ahead and do whatever you have to, I’ll try to stay out of the way—”

                “You can’t.”

                “…I said I’ll try…”

                Wolfram shakes his head. “We were careless, and now they know about you. It could get dangerous. That’s why you need to learn how to protect yourself.”

                My heartbeat speeds up even more.

                “The Sage’s friend said the mazoku here have become one with the humans, but some are different. Some can still use the powers of my people.”

                He holds my injured hand in both of his, closing his eyes and bringing his forehead to my fingers. His grip grows hotter, and a small sweat breaks out over his fair skin. I’m about to wipe it off with my other hand, when I notice a warm glow emanating from between his fingers.

               Wolfram opens his eyes, looking vaguely more tired than before, but begins to unravel my bandages determinedly. Before I can fret over how troublesome it would be to redo those, he pulls away my fingers and runs his down the smooth surface of my palm.

                “Healing isn’t my specialty, and it’s slightly harder here than back home. But I think I can get used to the difference with some more practice.”

                My throat seems to have gone dry. “This is…”

                “Maryoku. The power of the mazoku.” Wolfram pulls up my hand and matches it with his. They’re almost the same size, and even though his is fairer, I can feel the same callouses, though I doubt his came from holding a baseball bat. “Even here, there are a few mazoku who can use this power.”

                He pauses, and says what I’ve been waiting to hear,

                “Yuuri, you’re one of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, the ending of the Bullying Arc and the beginning of the Training Arc...? //pls dun take that srsly


	16. I Wanna Get Stronger!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an important secret is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, we move on to Josak?V

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean I can transform.

                “Are you sure, Conrad?” I ask wistfully at breakfast the next morning. My father had gone to work, my mom was washing up in the kitchen, and Shouri still isn’t home since that girl Abigail dragged him out. I hold up the pendant I’d gotten instead of a medal. “Isn’t this necklace a magical jewel that contains the power of the moon?”

                “Afraid not,” my godfather says exasperatedly. “It’s just a maseki, meaning it can boost your powers, but sadly it doesn’t come with a wardrobe change.”

                I perk up at that. “Hold on, so it’s magic after all?”

                “Of course not,” Wolfram harrumphs. “I’ve seen what you call magic on that telebison of yours, those are merely parlor tricks.”

                But Wolf, weren’t you so impressed by them until Shouri searched the Internet and showed you the secrets? See, this is why I say some things are still best kept secret.

                “I know you’re excited to start your training,” Conrad says with a smile. “But we can do that after school. Besides, don’t you have something to settle?”

                Oh, yeah. The “punishment”.

                As soon as I put my bag down in class, the intercom rings to summon Takeuchi and me to the principal’s office. Uwaa, that makes it sound like I’m the one who did something wrong. Is this the principal’s last act of revenge on me? The voices in class all fall silent at once, and once the message ends, they rear up again as whispers.

                “They know what happened.” Wolfram stands up from his chair. “After all, he confessed yesterday. And word gets around.”

                But I bet they conveniently don’t know what he said about the mazoku. Face it, the one who spread the word was you guys, wasn’t it?       

                Wolfram reads the suspicion in my expression, and reddens. “People saw you two fighting it out like a pair of pubescent bulls. Of course that would invite curiosity. I-I just said it as it is.”

                You’re even more biased than Conrad. I stretch a bit, feeling lighter already. “Thanks.”

                “I said I did nothing special.”

                “Sure. By the way, wanna come with?”

                It’s a bit late to ask, since he’s already standing up, but I figure it’s worth it anyway when he smiles. A few seats away, Takeuchi’s expression isn’t nearly as friendly. On the way to his father’s office, I can’t help saying,

                “Relax, we’re not going to kill you.”

                He shoots me a glare. “You’re just relying on your family’s power.”

                “Mm-hm. And you weren’t?”

                That effectively shuts him up. Wolfram’s smile widens. “So, Yuuri, you’ve decided not to be a wimp today?”

                Well, I did spend all night thinking. Though I do think everyone’s overreacting, I also have to admit what they did was wrong. Ironically, maybe I’m just more removed from it because it was happening to me. If Wolfram had been their target instead…

                I grip my fist tightly. Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t be this calm. But – I relax my fingers and glance at my palm – there was no lasting harm done. And now that I know I’m one of these mazoku, somehow I don’t like what they think of us. Seriously, we’re not that bad. I think.

                I need to do something so they don’t hate us even more, but at the same time, I need to make sure they never do something like this ever again. Not just to me, or to my fellow mazoku. But to anyone.

                By the time we reach the principal’s office, I’ve made up my mind what I want their punishment to be. It’s my first time feeling this confident as I go to meet the most powerful man in this school, which I haven’t done that many times, of course. So my ego deflates a bit when I see Conrad and Josak standing there like sentinels.

                “Con—Weller-sensei, Gurrier-sensei, what are you doing here?”

                “Oh, just having a cup of tea,” Conrad beams. Then why is the principal stiff as a board? You’re scaring the old man, spare him the heart attack.

                I feel slightly helpless. This isn’t helping my plan to make them fear us less. “Don’t you guys have classes to go to? Especially Gurrier…-sensei, the morning is the best time for PE, y’know.”

                Josak tsks. “But then I’ll miss out on the fun!”

                I sigh. “Nevertheless, sensei, please respect your job.” Wolfram told me he’s a spy, so shouldn’t he be more careful on a mission? But then again, his cover has already been blown, so I suppose he doesn’t need to worry about that. Even still—“If you’re accepting the school’s wages, you must do your duties to earn them.”

                Conrad coughs into his fist, but even I can see that his shoulders are trembling. Josak pouts.

                “Well~ If that’s what the Young Master says…”

                Who, me? Young Master? Why?

                As expected, I still can’t keep up with them. I’ll just have to ask him what he meant by that later. “Conrad?”

                “You slipped, Yuuri,” he says pleasantly, and I clap my hands to my mouth. “But it’s fine, I made sure my timetable is empty for this. Honda-san was kind enough to switch classes with me.”

                So even with the principal’s explicit orders, you still managed to get one of the female teachers on your side. I am not the slightest bit surprised.

                The class bell rings, and Josak goes out grumbling. I cast him an apologetic look, and promise him a favor later, which he suddenly returns with a wink. Ugh, why do I feel like I dug myself into a hole there… But I shake my head. Back to the matter at hand.

                “So… uhm. Yeah.” I scratch my head. That’s not a very convincing opening, is it? “I, uh, was sent here to punish you—” In the name of the moon. “No, that’s not right either!”

                Wolfram sighs, holding his face in his hand. Conrad starts giggling again, which really doesn’t make me any less nervous, dammit.

                I take a deep breath. “What you did was wrong.

                “But I forgive you.”

                There’s a moment of stillness, and then Wolfram violently unfreezes. “Yuuri! You can’t be letting them off so easily!”

                “But it won’t help anything if we hit them back,” I retort. “Then they’ll just go on hating us, and it’ll never end. Besides,” I add, “I never said I’m letting them off already. Firstly!”

                I swing around to face Takeuchi junior, my classmate. “You. By captain’s orders, you’re not allowed to quit the club. As punishment for your wrongdoings, for wasting the team’s practice time and for harming team harmony, I want you to pay the team back in full, with hard work and sincerity.”

                Takeuchi’s gaze on me is complicated. He tries to sneer, but it comes off as half-hearted. “Are you sure about that? I might take your place as ace, y’know?”

                I shrug. “Who ever said the captain has to be the ace? You’re strong, we need people like you. And besides, I’m not going to stay in one place forever, so you had better watch your back.”

                Unlike you, I’m not going to stab you in it. “Next time I beat you, I want to do it fair and square.”

                “…You already did.”

                “So you promise? If you slack off, I’ll make you run ten rounds.”

                “That’s nothing.”

                “Twenty, then.”

                When he meets my eyes again, his expression is determined. “I’ll make you never catch up to me, and then you’ll regret keeping me in the team.”

                I won’t. Hiding a small smile, I turn to the father instead. “So, sensei, I’ll be borrowing your son in the afternoons. Also, I’d like to inform you that the baseball team is up and running again, so as captain, I humbly request the funds and facilities we were denied earlier. The other clubs got them, so I figured we should too, now that we’re not disbanding anytime soon. I call that fair, don’t you?”

 

Wolfram is still telling that story when we retire to the backyard after dinner.

                Josak looks amused, and more than a bit resenting me for making him miss out on that. “Good thinking there, Yuu-chan.”

                What, no more Young Master? But hmm, I had kind of gotten used to him calling me Yuu-chan. ‘Young Master’ has this strange formal feel about it, as though he’s my cross-dressing maid.

                “You still owe me a date, though.”

                “Wait, what!? Yuuri! I said no chea—”

                “It’s a joke, Wolfram, a joke! I’m not cheating on you!”

                “Oh dear, Your Excellency and Yuu-chan get along so well,” Josak laughs with his hand on his cheek. “As expected of boys at the same age.”

                That reminds me. “So Wolf, you’re sixteen too?”

                “Hah? I’m eighty-two.”

                ……… What!?

                “Conrad, Josak!?”

                “Eh~ Yuu-chan, you should never ask a lady her age!”

                Conrad clears his throat. “Let’s just say… we just recently hit three digits.”

                A hundred years old… No, with their messed-up perception of time, how long is ‘recently’!? I stumble back a few steps, my knees feeling weak.

                Wolfram waves off my deep shock impatiently. “Mazoku generally age five times slower than humans, so what? Yuuri, do you want to learn maryoku or not?”

                Five times… I shake myself. Right now, the temptation of magic—or majutsu, is stronger.

                “So what do I do first? Should I meditate to concentrate my chi—I mean, maryoku? Or do I need to train my body first? Should I meditate under a waterfall, then?”

                “What are you talking about?” Wolfram scowls, while Josak beckons me over with a ‘yoo-hoo’, hiding something behind my back. Once he’s sure he has my attention, he reveals the item with a flourish. It’s--!

                “…A water bottle?”

                “Ah, but not just any water bottle!” Josak wags a finger at me. “It’s a water bottle from our world, filled with water from our world.”

                The bottle does look somewhat antique, made of that steel or iron that sometimes leaves a weird taste in the water. I get a bit anxious, because it’s my first time seeing something from the other world—except the stone in front of my chest, and the three big guys in front of me, and… why am I nervous again?

                “It’s just water.”

                “Water from another world!”

                “Does it taste any different?”

                “Hmm, it may be a bit metallic.”

                “But that’s because of the bottle!”

                The sound of laughter from beyond the back gate catches our attention. Murata is bent over laughing, and wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. Well, I heartily hope you smudge your glasses.

                “Murata, it’s almost nine. Why are you here?”

                “Aww, I thought you said I’m welcome anytime for dinner.”

                “Dinner was two hours ago!”

                Ahh, I’m too tired to play the straight man to four idiots at once. “Seriously, though, why are you here?”

                “I sensed maryoku in the neighbourhood.” The expression on Murata’s face is nostalgic. “If you want to train, I can help.”

                “Huh? How?”

                “You’ll see.” Murata hops onto the fence, and it takes a good three minutes before he finally hauls himself over the side, landing butt-first onto the ground with a loud thud. He even sits there panting for a while.

                I look at him expressionlessly. “You do know I could have opened the door for you, right?”

                “But—th-that way is—cooler—”

                No, I really don’t think so.

                Josak tsk-tsks again. “Your Eminence, we really need to work on your stamina. That goes for you too, Yuu-chan.”

                Huh? I’m pretty sure I’m fit, especially compared to Murata. Then I notice Josak’s guns again, and can’t stop myself from swallowing hard. If I can get muscles like that— “Ow! What was that for!?”

                Wolfram glares at me, completely unapologetic. “Your eyes are about to fall out of your head. At least don’t make it so obvious, you pervert.”

                “Yuu-chan, I’m flattered~”

                “Wait, no, you’re misunderstanding! I just want his body—”

                Ah, I’m doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But seriously though, how would you feel if you suddenly found out your roommate/classmate/possible best friend (and possibly more ;) is actually older than your grandfather...
> 
> //three seconds of silence for AU Yuuri


	17. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get busy for Yuuri and co.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a time skip T^T Everything before this happened practically day by day gah what is this timing

In the end, the water was completely normal water. It didn’t even have the courtesy to taste metallic.

                “What were you expecting? For the water to turn into wine?”

                Even if it doesn’t explode or change color when I touch it, I’d at least hope it was sweet.

                Still, I was thirsty, so I drained the entire bottle.

                “Do you feel any different?” Murata asks somewhat nervously after I’m done. I shake my head, feeling a bit disappointed. My feelings must have shown on my face, because Murata pats my shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, this is just the beginning. With this, you have unlocked your potential.”

                Are you really sure? I look at him with full-on suspicion, until his expression turns exasperated.

                “Don’t you trust me? I’m the Sage, y’know. You should call me a name with ‘Your’ in front.”

                “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I punch him playfully.

                Rubbing his arm, Murata starts explaining the basics of this demon magic. Is it called majutsu or maryoku?

               “Why does everything have to have a ‘ma’ in front, just because we’re mazoku? Maybe it’s just my Earth mentality, but having a ‘ma’ in front of everything just MAkes everything sound more MAlicious—Gah, now I’ve caught the ‘ma’ MAlady as well!”

                “I would call that MAgnificent, wouldn’t you-ri?” Conrad chirps in cheerfully, and what follows is a cold, cold silence. Murata even sneezes.

                Josak sounds admiring. “Cap’n, your jokes are so bad now they can even give His Eminence a cold.”

                “Oh, I couldn’t take all the credit for that.”

                Do you even want to? Beside me, Wolfram sighs heavily. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Yuuri.”

                I rub the goosebumps on my arm, but can’t help smiling. It’s probably strange to put it this way, but I’m glad to know that Conrad has a weakness like that, because it makes him feel – for lack of a better word—human. And for him to show me this lame side of him, does that mean that I can assume we’ve gotten closer?

                “Anyway,” Murata claps his hands together. “I think it’s time for a DEMON-stration.”

                He pauses a moment for effect, but when he realizes nothing’s forthcoming, he looks a bit dejected before continuing, “Lord von Bielefeld, if you would please.”

                “Ah, but I’ve already seen—”

                “That was nothing,” Wolfram interrupts me. “I told you, right? Healing is not specialty.”

                He murmurs an incantation in a language I can’t understand. Is this their language, then? How am I going to recite a spell in a language I don’t know, I’m having trouble with English as it is! Before I can panic, Murata quietly puts a hand on my shoulder, and suddenly—he starts translating for me. He even pitches his voice higher to match Wolfram’s.

                “--Read my will and obey!”

                “So lame…” I say before I can stop myself, and then I wave my hands wildly when Wolfram shoots me a glare. “No, Wolf, I didn’t mean you, really!”

                For a moment there, I thought he would toss that ball of flames in his hand at my face. Instead, he harrumphs, closing his fingers around the fire. As though squeezing a water balloon, sparks fly out through the gaps in his fingers, lingering in the air for just one second longer. They remind me of fireflies.

                “Wow…”

                My voice isn’t the only to sigh in admiration. All our heads turn to the back door, where a neighbour’s kid is grasping the bars tightly and staring in wonder.

                …Is it too late to ask Rodriguez for that memory-wiping stick?

 

After that, we learned our lesson. It took a while, but we did find an abandoned warehouse of sorts where we could practice in peace. I have to say, it’s good to have connections.

                And so my busy high school life began. On the weekdays, I pull Wolfram out of bed in the mornings, go to class, try to avoid Conrad and Josak during lunch, practice with the club after class, and sometimes squeeze in a session at the batting range or with my grasslot team. It got even more hectic when more students started to join the club, because word really does spread fast. Although I wouldn’t put it that way, Wolfram said I’ve become something of a celebrity after that incident, because of the way I dealt with the bully. They said even the principal had to respect me for that, and chose me over his son.

                That’s evidently not how it went down, but Wolfram persuaded me into not saying anything about it. Well, it would be better for the principal’s reputation than the alternative, so I shrugged and let it continue. On the other hand, I can’t help but notice more and more people have started talking to Wolfram about it. It’s like I always said, he’s easy to talk to as long as you know what to say. We already had a few offers for sub-manager from cute girls in short skirts.

                Heck, I’m even wondering how many of the guys in our club joined for him.

                After dealing with the new applications, the ever-changing training regimes and schedules, as well as the equipment and lineup issues, I’m practically dead by the time we reach home for dinner. More than once, Wolfram had to pull my hair to stop me from falling face-first into the rice. But my day isn’t over.

                Murata really took up on that offer to come over, and my parents are more than fine with it. One, we’re practically part of a really large extended family; two, he sure knows how to charm my mother; and three, he once ‘accidentally’ let it slip that his parents are both working, which means he’s usually left home alone. After that, my mom would bug me to call every time he _doesn’t_ show up for dinner. We even had to buy a bigger dining table, though my old man doesn’t complain since Conrad and Josak always pay their rent on time.

                Oh, and four, Murata comes over every night to teach me… not majutsu, but Japanese. And history, and geography, and maths. He even helps Conrad with English. So after dinner, the new dining table becomes a study area, covered in notes and books. More often than not, Wolfram joins in too, but first he has to get all tsundere and reluctant about taking favors from Murata. I never know what’s the issue between them, it’s almost as bad as between Murata and my brother.

                Speaking of which, there’s only a number of ‘brother of my friend’ and ‘friend of my brother’ and ‘friend of friend of my brother’ and ‘friend of brother of my friend’ and ‘friend of my brother of my friend of my brother of my friend’ that I can handle before I make it my new mission to ensure they never meet. And even if they do, I make sure they never exchange more than two frosty sentences before I shove Shouri out of the house or drag Murata into my room.

                On the bright side, it’s easier now that Shouri seems to have finally found himself a girlfriend, even if he denies it. Thank you, MISS Abigail.

                Back to my timetable, because I actually need a timetable to keep track at this point. At night, I get Wolfram to tell me more about that world. It just sounds so amazing, y’know what I mean? That’s there’s a whole other world out there, that’s not really like this one but not too different either. At first Wolfram was reluctant, but then he slowly started to get into it too. He would tell me about their country with the ridiculously long name, about the different tribes of people and skeletons, even about the history and sometimes politics. I don’t understand half of it, but I listen seriously all the same. Because when I let him talk like that, I can see the pride he has in his country, and also that little hint of barely-there homesickness.

                In exchange, I tell him stories about my childhood. It’s not much – I definitely haven’t seen as much as he has. Sometimes I answer his questions about Earth things, like how Alexander Graham Bell invented the light bulb. For things I’m not too sure about, I just make it up as I go. I think he knows when I’m pulling things out of my butt, but he listens solemnly too.

                We talk and we talk, until one of us falls asleep. Fine, most of the time it’s me. When I wake up, I always notice that he had turned off the light and presumably tried to tuck me in, but it’s hard to tell because by morning he’d have kicked everything off the bed, which most of the time includes me. I suppose I have no one else to blame that he’s so impossible to wake up in the morning.

                That’s why, on weekends, I make it a point to wake up early in the morning, wrestle Wolfram off of me, and take Conrad and my dogs out for a jog. While Wolfram is falling asleep in his cereal, I bug Josak into giving me muscle training, and at one point, Conrad starts teaching me how to use a wooden sword too. When I ask him what I would need that for, he always says, mysteriously, “Just in case.”

                And in the afternoon, finally, I get to train my maryoku.

                Murata always takes his own sweet time getting to our meeting place. When I accuse him of being lazy in the morning like Wolfram is, he shrugs and says it’s only for the weekends, not everyone is a hyperactive musclehead like you, Shibuya. I can never come up with an argument for that, and the worst thing is that we can’t even practice without him.

                It seems that what he meant when he said he could ‘help’ is that he acts as a natural booster. For some reason the effect is more obvious on me, but when he’s around, Wolfram finds it easier to use maryoku as well. I’ve just about gotten to the point where I can make water into a baseball-sized sphere in the air on my own, but with Murata around, I can actually start pitching that ball a decent distance before it falls apart.

                Having mastered the ball, I suggested trying to mold it into something with angles instead, so we moved on to pyramids. For some reason, Murata doesn’t really seem to like boxes.

                This training goes on until nighttime, because Murata’s parents occasionally come home for dinner on the weekends, and well, he doesn’t want to risk missing them. And on weekend nights, I can finally kick back and relax—

                Just kidding. I don’t have any me time at all anymore, because on weekend nights I work in a not-so-shady bar in Shinjuku. If you ask me how I got there… I suppose I did promise.

 

It all began the first Sunday we trained in the warehouse. I couldn’t help but notice Josak wasn’t there.

                “Come to think of it, where does he go at night?”

                Even on weekday nights, when the rest of us are having tuition, he goes out and doesn’t come back until after I’m asleep. Is this the famous adult’s lifestyle? My old man goes out drinking with his colleagues too, but he’s always back before midnight. Despite myself, I’m curious.

                So I made the mistake of asking.

                Conrad had been watching us practice, occasionally reading a book. When I asked him why he wasn’t practicing with us, he smiled and said he didn’t have maryoku, and neither did Josak. I didn’t ask further than that. Apparently he told Josak about both my questions, though, because when we got back home, Josak was waiting outside the door in a trench coat.

                “Oh, there you are, Yuu-chan! C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

                He grabs my hand and starts making a run for it.

                “W-wait, what are we late for!?”

                “Our date, of course. You promised, right?”

                I don’t dare to look back at Wolfram after that.

                Josak takes me all the way to the station and then to Shinjuku. I already felt uncomfortable enough in my sweaty track clothes in the train, and by the time he saunters into Ni-Chome, I’m practically cowering.

                “J-Josak!”

                “We’re almost there,” he says breezily. “Didn’t Yuu-chan say you were curious? Just relax, and let Gurie-chan show you the ropes. I assure you, you’re safe with me.”

                Me and my big mouth—And darn you, Conrad, I’m never asking you anything again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd call this the break into the next arc, but why are there arcs in this thing again?


	18. Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri expands his horizons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the Ni-chome arc...? Don't worry, it's not long at all lol
> 
> And wow this is late

As soon as we step into the bar, Josak starts stripping.

                I peep through my fingers to see him grinning broadly at me. He stopped at the trench coat, but what he’s wearing underneath… Well, I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. It’s a sexy long black piece that has more material at the front and back than the sides, and tries its darned best to show off his ‘curves’. At any rate, I can say it’s more mature than his Lolita outfit the first time, much more suitable for an adult.

                “Oh my, who is this?” The person behind the counter greets us enthusiastically. That face seems a bit on the young side, and has just a bit too much make-up, but it’s a face that most people would call a beauty. As for me… I think of the people waiting for me at home, and for the first time realize that my sense of beauty has been royally screwed up.

                Mn, in other words, this person is a beauty by Earth standards.

                “Yuu-chan, meet Katsura, my boss.” Josak – or should I call him Gurie-chan? – niftily takes off his shoes, and pulls a pair of heels out from underneath the counter. I get it, it would be really inconvenient to wear those on the train. “Kacchi, this is my date for tonight. Isn’t he a cutie?”

                “Hmm, but should he be here at this time of the night?” Katsura mixes together a drink expertly. “Gurie-chan, you know I don’t want trouble.”

                “Don’t worry, he won’t be drinking.” Gurie-chan shakes out a long wig. I’m starting to think this is his second home—or third, counting the one in that other world. “And his parents won’t mind.”

                I sure hope they won’t. In any case, now that I’m all the way here and already smelling of alcohol and perfume – Josak, do you really need that much? – I don’t really feel like going home just yet.

                “Well, Yuu-chan, you’re welcome to stay as long you don’t distract Gurie-chan.” Katsura clicks his tongue. “You look like it’s just about your bedtime.”

                It is, and that’s why I’m hoping that person will be asleep by the time I actually get home.

                “Katsura, don’t you have a younger brother his age?” Josak pinches my cheek. “Ah, their skin is so great at that age. Even this baseball boy, who spends all day training in the sun and can’t even tell face wash from moisturizer, has skin this smooth. But Yuu-chan, if you don’t start taking care, your honey will never want to kiss you. After all, it’s no fun kissing sandpaper.”

                Katsura walks out from behind the bar as Josak goes in, and watches me curiously. “I knew it, you’re not Gurie-chan’s type. C’mon, so what’s the lucky guy like?”

                I shake my head furiously. “I’m not—I don’t—I mean—”

                Katsura doesn’t try at all to hide his disappointment. “Aw, so you’re not one of us?”

                “Give him time,” Josak calls out. The way he handles the spirits and the shaker tells me he’s definitely not a beginner. Before I can ask, he pours out a sparkling golden drink and slides it down the counter to me. “This one’s on me. Don’t worry, it’s completely non-alcoholic.”

                I peek around the bar as I sip my first drink of the night. The interior is dimly lit but tastefully decorated. There’s nothing too fancy, like crystal chandeliers or marble floors. Like the location, just off the main street, there’s a certain sense of a tighter budget about this place. In exchange, the cheap paintings on the walls seem to have been chosen with care, and the counter is made of a comforting but not necessarily expensive wood. Even the music is soft and soothing.

                How should I put it… This place is kinda friendly.

                “Do you like it?” Katsura asks. He sounds like a nervous homeowner showing a friend his new house.

                “It’s nice,” I blurt out, and I mean it. Josak flashes me a thumbs-up where Katsura can’t see, and then leans over the counter to tap my glass.

                “What about your drink? What do you think of my skills, Yuu-chan?”

                The drink is fizzy, like soda mixed with lemon and pineapple. There’s enough sugar to make sure it’s not too sour, but it’s not overwhelmingly sweet either. In fact, it reminds me a bit of my favorite sports drink.

                I nod faster this time. “I like it!”

                Josak’s grin widens, and Katsura smacks him playfully on the bicep. “Well, good for you, Gurie-chan! You got your little date’s approval.”

                “Good start to the night, I’d say,” Josak chuckles in his deep voice, just as the first actual customer comes in. Katsura hurries off to greet the newcomer, shouting orders back to Josak, who mixes them with a speed and fluidity I can only envy.

                “Do you want to try your hand?” Josak really seems to be enjoying himself. I’m glad. “I could use the help, we’re always low on staff here.”

                “Isn’t there anyone else?”

                “No, for now it’s just Katsura and me.” Josak slides off another glass. The ruby red liquid sloshes elegantly around the rim, but doesn’t spill even a drop. He truly is a pro.

                “So is this where you go every night?”

                “You noticed,” he laughs again. “It’s always good to earn a little extra on the side, don’t you think? And if I’ll be honest with you, I rather miss my own shop back home.”

                “You have a bar?” I ask, not bothering to hide my surprise.

                “Yup, my pride and joy.” Josak smiles nostalgically. “Most of my helpers and customers were soldiers just like me, y’know. After a long day of training and missions and fighting, you wouldn’t believe how nice it is to slip into a pretty dress, buy a drink, and feel beautiful.”

                I try to imagine it, a bar full of guys as toned and buff as Josak, wearing little black dresses and laughing over a glass of champagne. “That sounds nice.” Although I’m not sure how the contrasting sight will assault my senses.

                “And the best part about you is that you mean it.” Josak rubs my hair, and puts another drink in front of me.

                “Eh? But I don’t have any—”

                “It’s a date, let me treat you.”

                That reminds me. My voice turns resentful. “Do you always have to call it a date?”

                “Why, are you worried someone will get jealous?” Josak’s smile is bewitching. “As far as I know, you’re single. Which makes you fair game, right?”

                Before I can say anything, we’re distracted by a loud crash behind us, followed by the sound of a slap. I jump to my feet, but Josak is even faster. Silently he walks up to the customer who had come in, and yanks the man’s arm behind him.

                “Now, now, we don’t advocate violence in here, sir.”

                The man looks like he’s about to argue, but thinks twice when he sees the size of Josak’s guns. Instead, he spits onto the table and mutters, “Dirty tranny.”

                The words curl like snakes in my ears, and I shudder. To steady my nerves, I quickly down my second drink and stride over to Katsura while Josak is politely showing the man out of the door.

                “Katsura-san, are you okay?”

                Katsura takes a deep breath, puts his hand down from where he was holding his cheek, and forces a smile. It makes the bright red mark on his fair skin even more obvious. “I’m fine, Yuu-chan. Sorry you had to see that.”

                “There’s no need for you to apologize,” Josak huffs. “These men, they think they can do whatever they want with us.”

                Katsura’s laugh is hollow. “Well, maybe I can’t blame them. After all, once I did let them do whatever they want with me.”

                “But things are different now,” Josak insists gently, helping his boss up. “You got out of that hellhole.”

                “Hmm. But some memories die hard.”

                I watch them silently, catching some hints despite myself. When Katsura goes into the dressing room to redo his make-up, Josak leans on the counter beside me.

                “The first time I met Kacchi, thugs were beating down the door.”

                He nods towards the rustic front door, and I follow his gaze. “See that window over there? It used to be stained glass. The old man who owned this lot was very proud of it. It was worth more than the rest of the shop put together, maybe. And Kacchi sure as hell couldn’t afford to repair it. Got him right upset, that did. I had to sell myself at minimum wage to get him ta smile again.”

                I ask in a whisper, “Why did he do it?”

                “It wasn’t because he wanted to, if that’s what you’re asking. Though of course, there’s nothing wrong with that either.” Josak pours me another drink. Inwardly I swear to pay him back later, but I’m pretty sure I need one right now. “Apparently his old man got unlucky with some business and offed himself. Mighty irresponsible if you ask me.”

                I can’t help but remember the statistics that they always play on the radio.

                “It’s strange.” Josak downs a drink himself. “Where I come from, you’re always lucky to be alive. You don’t know how precious life is until you’ve had deliver the worst news to someone’s old mam, trust me. This place is peaceful. There’s barely any fighting, and you don’t have to train your sword arm to survive. Heck, even people who can’t work get money for just lying there. But Kacchi’s dad isn’t the only one I’ve heard who off’d himself.” His expression is troubled, and slightly confused. “What, are lives worth less during peacetime?”

                I shake my head, hard. It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all. It’s just that people here face different troubles. To be honest, I don’t really know how those people who make that decision think either, but I know it’s not right. It’s not right to do that, and it’s not right to ask why they do that. But why?

                “Don’t think too hard about it,” Josak puts his hand on my head heavily. “And don’t worry about Kacchi, he’s a strong fella. Worked himself out of it, didn’t he? ‘Sides, he always says he has a brother to care for, so he don’t have the luxury.”

                A brother my age… I wonder if he goes to the same school as I do. I bet he loves Katsura a lot, he’s lucky to have a brother like that. And I—I want to be able to do something too.

                “Josak, you said you guys needed help here?”

                His face breaks into a grin. “We do need a bouncer.”

                “...Huh?” I think about my baseball bat at home, and the sword training Conrad has been giving me. So this is what he meant? But I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to carry a sword like a samurai, and somehow I don’t want to use the bat that was given to me…

                “That’s why I’ll need you to be the new bartender.” Josak throws his arm around my shoulder. “There’s no way you’re guarding anything with those skinny limbs of yours, so be a good boy and learn how to make a killer cocktail and I can be free to whoop some asses.”

                “…I can’t drink yet.”

                “Who says you’ll have to drink? Just follow my recipe, and if you’re really in doubt, holler me over for a taster.” That’s the important part, isn’t it. “What do you say, Yuu-chan? You get to earn some extra cash on the side.”

                I think of my packed schedules, of Katsura-san in the back, and of the stained glass window. It must have been beautiful.

                I nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand another OC. Only one this time, I swear!
> 
> ...technically.
> 
> Also, you may have noticed, but this ain't ending in 20 gah


	19. The One Who Defies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get closer to the heart of matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I said this arc would be short...

“That’s wonderful!” Josak claps his hands together. “Now our little family has grown to three. I’m sure Kacchi would be glad to hear that. Shall we—”

                The doorbell rings again, and the next customer brings in a gust of cold night air with him. The boy that walks in looks like he could be my age, his glasses fogging up in the warmth of the bar.

                “Oh, look, it’s Kei-chan! Yuu-chan, this is Kacchi’s brother I was telling you about.”

                “Shibuya?”

                He looks familiar. Slowly the fog on his glasses clears up, and I meet his clear brown eyes… Mn, I still don’t recognize him.

                “Shibuya from the baseball club, right?” The boy reads the confusion in my expression and smiles wryly. “Shouldn’t you be leading your club to victory? What are you doing here?”

                My face burns up. “I—”

                “I brought him here,” Josak calls from where he’s finally cleaning up the broken glass on the other side of the bar. “He’s my date for the night, so make him feel comfy, won’t you?”

                “So that’s how it is.” Keiji sits on the stool next to mine, reaching over the counter for a soda. Hey, is it really okay for everyone to just help themselves to the drinks here? I’m already mentally calculating my wages and how much I’ll have to return to the shop without even seeing the money first. But this guy sure knows his way around the place—

                “Ah, wait! You’re the guy from the Student Council!”

                “What, you only just remembered me?” Keiji sounds exasperated. “C’mon, I’m not that forgettable, am I?”

                “Hehe,” I scratch my head. “Well, I’ve only seen you once.”

                Come to think of it, despite what he said that day about shutting the club down if we didn’t get active, he never did come back to check on us, did he? On hindsight he was as kind as he could be to us, and he did seem to understand what Tajima-senpai and the others were going through. I look at his side profile as he swirls his drink gracefully, seeming completely at home in the bar.

                “You really are Katsura-san’s brother.”

                Keiji’s expression darkens at that. “Don’t use that name when you’re talking to me.”

                His sudden hostility takes me off-guard. The comfortable atmosphere instantly turns chilly. “W-why?”

                “Just don’t.” Keiji scowls. “That’s supposed to be my name, I don’t understand why he has to use it in… places like this.”

                Places like this? This is your brother’s pride and joy, the effort of all his hard work.

                Something starts to burn in the pit of my stomach. I’m beginning to wonder if Josak was lying when he said he didn’t put anything in my drinks.

                “I don’t understand.” I try to shake off the ringing in my ears. “Your brother is working very hard for your sake. You know that, don’t you?”

                “I do part time shifts every day after school. I don’t need his money, nor do I want it.”

                “You--!” I try to stand up abruptly, but my legs feel wobbly. “He cares so much for you!”

                Keiji turns his face away from me. “I don’t need you telling me that. Of course you’d agree with him, you’re just like him.”

                My words die in my throat. The memory of that word scribbled onto my table comes back to mind, as though it had never left. No matter how hard I scrub, I can never seem to wipe it off. That accusation, that possibility—

                It’s the word I never want a certain blonde prince to see.

                “I’m not.” I fold my arms onto the counter and bury my face, trying to quieten the burning at the base of my head. “I’m not that strong.”

                When faced with that choice, I always listen to the warnings, to the horror stories, and I choose the easy way out. I know I’m a rash person; Murata is always telling me to use my head more. But when it comes to that one thing, I’m always too scared to listen to that tiny, tiny voice in my heart.

                “I don’t understand.” Keiji grasps his glass so tightly I worry for it. I don’t think Katsura can afford to lose another glass, and worse, I don’t want to see his expression if his beloved baby brother gets hurt. “Why? Why does it have to be men?”

                Yeah. Why?

                A sharp movement catches my eye. Josak stood up abruptly, his stance tense and his expression alert.

                “Boys, do you smell smoke?”

                The moment he mentions it, the telltale smell of fire seems to be everywhere in the air. Keiji turns pale, and runs for the dressing rooms before I can react. “Nii-san!”

                It’s been too long since Katsura went to the back. Despite the possibility of a fire, I feel suddenly cold. After exchanging quick glances with Josak, we race to the back of the shop.

                The dressing room doors are tossed wide open, but the room itself is obviously empty. We don’t even pause to look inside, making for the back door. The back entrance opens out into an alleyway, the kind with graffiti on the walls and fire escapes and large dumpsters on the sides.

                Katsura-san is lying on the ground, and one of the dumpsters is on fire.

                “Nii-san!” Keiji helps his brother up, an edge of desperation in his voice. Josak promptly joins them, holding up Katsura’s head. His hand comes away bloodied, and his brows knits into a grimace.

                “This will definitely need stitches. Kacchi! Kacchi, can you hear me?”

                I don’t understand. Katsura-san is a nice enough guy.  But it’s the second time tonight he’s been hurt. Why?

                As we’re watching him intently, his eyelids flutter open. For a moment his gaze is lifeless, but then he snaps back to focus. If Josak wasn’t holding him down, he would have jumped to his feet, regardless of the hole in his head.

                “The shop! Someone, save my shop!”

                His voice breaks at the end of that sentence, his expression crumbling. It’s even worse than the dead-eyed look he had just a second ago. I could see the flames reflected in his eyes, spreading from the dumpster to the back of the shop. I could see, as he imagined it, the fire eating away at his life’s accomplishments, at the modest bar counter, breaking all the glasses he had lovingly polished one by one, taking down the rest of the door—

                A voice asks, What are you going to do about it?

                I will do what I must.

                “Oh, fate. Why must you torment people so?”

                He has tried so hard. He has tried his best. And even then it wasn’t enough. Is it just the fate of some people to fall? Why else does the world conspire against them?

                It’s not fair.

                “If fate must take away what this person has striven for, I shall be the one to defy it.”

                Thunder rumbles in the sky. Dark clouds come in so quickly it seems they were forcefully pulled here by an invisible hand, shrouding the moon and plunging the night into further darkness. The rain begins to fall, each drop big enough to hurt. Wherever fire meets water, the flames seem to shrink away and wail out before hissing into nonexistence. It’s more effective than a fireman’s hose.

                “Nii-san, Nii-san, look!” Keiji cries out, shaking his brother who had gone into shock. “The fire, it’s going out! C’mon, don’t scare me.”

                The boy in the sweats walks over to the brothers with the regality of a king. “Look at me, child.”

                Keiji shudders, and despite himself, raises his head to meet that pitch-black gaze.

                The king slaps him across the cheek, until he tastes blood.

                “If you truly care thus deeply, why must you act in contrast? Only fools and cowards would dishonor their true feelings, and hurt everyone in the process.”

                “Well said, Yuu-chan,” Josak chuckles, but even he stiffens when those conceited eyes turn on him.

                “As for you, I will await to see where your loyalty lies. Do not think that I do not see your purpose in bringing me here.”

                The king straightens up once more, walking to the burning wall determinedly. The last flames had managed to crawl into the bar, and are hastily consuming whatever they can in their desperate struggle for survival. The king’s smile turns into a sneer.

                “None shall escape me. O thee who set this fond place of mine aflame, thou shall be extinguished alongside thy work! I will cut you down!”

                The remaining rainwater twists into a vaguely familiar shape, and then splits into two. One head rushes into the shop, taking out the last of the fire. The other rushes skyward, tearing past the fire escape. Someone yelps from above, and when the water comes cascading down again, there comes with it a man dressed in dark clothes.

                The water gathers for one last moment to save his back from being crushed onto the ground, but does little else to make his landing easier. Josak, however, is more preoccupied with the boy who had collapsed into a heap as soon as the rain stopped.

                “Yuu-chan?”

                “…ow…” The pulsing seems to be coming from between my eyes, like someone beating the congo on the insides of my skull. Stop, you’ll beat out whatever little brain I have left. At the same time, the stone on my chest feels warm enough to be hot, and it brings me back to my senses. “The shop… Is the fire out?”

                Josak raises an eyebrow. “You remember?”

                “Remember?” I remember that voice, I remember overwhelming power, enough to pull the clouds and flood the world. Or at least flood the shop. “S-sorry… I’ll pay for the water damage, I swear…”

                At least I can tell Murata I’ve graduated from making water pyramids. But was that… really me?

                I shake my head. Darkness is eating away at the corners of my vision, and right now I just want to sleep until the day after tomorrow. But first, I want to see the one who was responsible for all this.

                “…You!” It’s the same guy as before, the one who had hit Katsura and was sent out.

                The man looks at me with a mix of venom and terror, but can’t quite get up fast enough. Josak stands over him, forcing him to face me.

                “Why?” That’s all I can think.

                “—this is my place!” the man yells. “He bought it with my money, and I can do whatever I want with it!”

                Katsura’s face is wet, from the rain and the blood, but his eyes are dry. Keiji holds his brother’s head, shoulders trembling.

                “I said, it’s over between us,” Katsura says mechanically. “You’re welcome to come to the shop any time, because like you said, it was paid for with your money. But I have returned that amount in full, and if it’ll keep you quiet, I’ll even pay you dividends from the earnings.”

                “That’s not the point!” There’s a wild look in the man’s expression as well. “Yukki, don’t you want me anymore? Now that you’ve got this place, am I no longer of use to you?”

                Katsura turns his face away. “I can’t stop you, but if you really care for me, please, don’t ever come back. I’ll return whatever I owe you. Gurie-chan, if you would please.”

                “You heard ‘em.” Josak picks up the man by the back of his shirt and walks him out of the alley. “Kacchi is still too soft on you, so go before I decide to report you to the police for arson. Go on, now, there’s a dear.”

                Josak can make even the gentlest words sound intimidating with a smile and a flex of those intimidating guns. When he comes back to us, I experience firsthand just how strong he is. I also learn how it feels to fly, or at least be suspended in mid-air.

                “It’s admirable that you’re trying so hard, Yuu-chan, but you gotta learn your limits. Didn’t His Eminence tell you what happens to people who overuse their maryoku?”

                “But—” My vision is blackening. “Katsura-san’s—hurt—”

                “He’ll be fine.” Josak’s large hand lightly closes my eyelids. “After all, he has his precious brother with him.”

                That ‘precious brother’ is yelling at him and crying for him at the same time. That’s all right. I let my consciousness fade.

 

“How’s the damage?”

                Keiji looks as tired as the rest of them, after sending his brother to the hospital and doing whatever preliminary cleaning he can. He would have lodged the police report, too, if Katsura hadn’t insisted on mercy for the man, one last time.

                “Why that guy?” Keiji kicks the broken glass on the floor. “Does he like making life harder for himself?”

                “You can’t just decide so easily with matters of the heart,” Josak says matter-of-factly. “How much do you think this will set us back?”

                Keiji eyes the burned walls and broken glassware wearily. “At least it didn’t do much to the furniture. I’ll replace the glasses with my savings before Nii-san comes back, but the walls will take longer.”

                Even if they replace the glasses, Katsura will be able to tell the new ones from the old ones. But Josak doesn’t say anything, because that’s a brother’s love.

                “I’ll go back first. I need to prepare for school and bring a set of clothes for Nii-san at the hospital.” Keiji puts his coat back on. “Gurrier-san, sorry to bother you, but please make sure everything is locked up properly.”

                “Leave it to me,” Josak says with a cheerful wave.

                Keiji hesitates. “As for that guy… I’ll put in a word for him with the teachers, he should stay home for at least one day.” His expression turns into a wry smile. “But what am I saying, you don’t need help with that, do you, sensei?”

                “Aw, that always makes me feel so old,” Josak chuckles. “Thanks for keeping the secret, though.”

                “I’m not doing it for you. Nii-san needs all the help he can get.”

                “Oh yes, did I mention Yuu-chan volunteered to work here as well?”

                After Keiji left in considerably better spirits than before, Josak smoothens Yuuri’s black hair over his forehead. The boy was probably the most exhausted out of them all. But he did well today.

                Even better than Josak expected.

                Satisfied that he wouldn’t wake up until morning at least, Josak walks quietly into the dressing room. Thankfully the fire hadn’t reached this place. He opens his locker, taking out a basin and one of many large bottles of water. Those were a pain to carry, especially across worlds, even if they were strapped onto a Poison Lady gravity belt. Still, they tasted surprisingly good if you put a little into a drink.

                Carefully he pours some water into the basin, and waits for the familiar face of the evergreen priestess to appear.

                _“Good day, Gurrier.”_

                “Good day to you too, priestess. You’ll love to hear what I have to report to you today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it's been too long since Ue-sama showed up owo Also, because there's been so much angst and not enough crack recently, let me just say that I bet Ulrike is a huge Yuuram fan
> 
> And unnamed OCs don't count!
> 
> By the way, I'll be going off to camp from this weekend, and after that is Chinese New Year, so... I think I won't be able to keep up daily updates for a while...
> 
> P.S. Gah I keep editing this because I can't remember everything I want to say at once. Katsura and the 'kei' in Keiji are both forms of the kanji 桂, which is my favorite osmanthius flower that just doesn't have a nice name in English, darn. Also I remembered too late that it's the name of that sand bear keeper... whatever X'D


	20. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri... well, read the title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the legendary, elusive thing called development? O.O

On Wednesday that same week, Keiji calls me to the roof at lunch.

                “Shibuya,” he says after a stretch of silence between us, “I just wanted to say—I mean, I thought you’d like to know…” He takes a deep breath. “My brother was discharged yesterday. It took a few stitches, and doctors kept him under observation for a few more days, but it’ll be all fine.”

                “Thank goodness,” I say reflexively. “And he’s—”

                “He even joked that it’s a good thing that the scars won’t show under his wigs.”

                That sounds like something he’d say. I nod, and repeat, “Your brother is strong.”

                “I know that.” Keiji looks at his feet. “About what happened that day…”

                 “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

                “Funny, that’s what I was going to say.” His smile is faint, but determined. “Those powers that you demonstrated that day, they were quite something. Are you sure you’re human, Shibuya?”

                “Hehe… maybe?” I’m pretty sure I’m still half-human, at least. I forgot that these things should be kept secret, like how Superman and even Ultraman usually have secret identities. The danger is that if your secret got out, the people precious to you will be threatened or something… My gaze flits to the corner of the rooftop where a certain blonde foreigner is pacing impatiently and throwing us dirty looks.

                Wait, why am I worried about him? He can handle himself perfectly well.

                “Also, I would like to clear up a misunderstanding.” Keiji pushes his glasses up his nose, and I’m reminded that I haven’t called Murata in a while. “I was never ashamed of my brother, regardless of what you may think.”

                “Huh? But that day, you said…”

                He grimaces. “I’m not ashamed of it, but I don’t like what he did. He deserves more, and I hate that I’m the reason he has to resort to that. He says he uses an alias that reminds him of why he’s working hard, but it only reminds me that I’m holding him down. And now, after all he went through, after things are finally turning for the better…”

                _Why does it have to be men?_ His words still echo in my head.

               His nails dig deep into his palms, and he seems to stop breathing for a moment. When he finally releases his breath, it feels like he lets go of all the tension in his body as well.

                “I wish he could have made it easier for himself, but I know that’s idealistic of me to think so. Matters of the heart can’t be decided with the head so easily.” He smiles wryly, putting a hand on my shoulder and a stack of paper slips in my hand. “Be glad you fell in love with someone who likes you back, Shibuya, it’s a lot easier that way. If you respect my brother that much, be a man and bring some good news back to us next time. He could use the cheering up.”

                Then Keiji pulls away with a cough, and practically runs to the stairs as though chased by a particularly fearsome monster.

                The monster quickly gives up on him and rounds down on me instead. “Yuuri, what was that other glasses guy talking to you about!?”

                At this point Wolfram might actually develop a dislike for glasses. “He was just saying thanks.” At least, I think that’s what he was doing. Right?

                Wolfram scowls, and still manages to be beautiful. “What for?”

                “I helped him and his brother out that day. Sunday night, when I went out with Josak.” I still hadn’t told him that the one night out had become a weekly thing. Well, this is a good a time as any. I better tell him the truth before he explodes. “Wolf— listen, it wasn’t really a date, I swear! He just asked me to help his friend out at his part-time job. And uh—I-I kinda agreed to keep on helping out. On weekend nights.”

                Come to think of it, we rarely act separately these days. Be it school, or practice, or even days out, I had become used to seeing Wolfram beside me. Sunday night was the only time I went somewhere beyond his reach, without his knowledge, and did something without him in… a very long time. He was asleep by the time I came home, and never asked me about it afterwards. Even his attitude didn’t change, but still, his silence scared me.

                I’m so used to being on the same page with him that this miscommunication is scary. I wonder, does he feel the same way?

                “…Fine, just try not to come home too late. You can’t always be skipping Mondays.”

                He’s still not asking about it. I should be glad that he trusts me, or that I still have some privacy. I tell myself to be glad, but the truth is I’m a little disappointed.

                Even I can tell that the atmosphere between us now isn’t that good. Then I remember the paper in my hand, and an idea strikes me. Before I can second guess myself, I blurt out,

                “Wolf, do you want to go on a date with me?”

 

Keiji had given me a bunch of tickets to the aquarium.

                Apparently he works part-time there, as well as at the convenience store and fast food restaurants. He even takes one-time jobs with the movers or whoever needs a free hand. It seems I misjudged him, he’s a hardworking kid too.

                Of course, the one telling me all this is Murata. “How do you know him, by the way?”

                “He’s in the same cram school as me, I see him listening to classes and doing secretarial work at the same time. You could say I admire him, his multitasking skills are quite legendary.”

                Yeah, he’s a very hardworking kid. And possibly not much more human than I am.

                Wolfram pushes in between us. “Are you talking about that other glasses guy again!?”

                “Wolf, you do know my brother, and Rodriguez, and the maou of Earth that we haven’t met yet all wear glasses too, right?”

                He waves me off. “They don’t count.”

                Sorry, Shouri, you heard him. Over at the counter, my brother turns around and yells, “Hey, I heard that!”

                Wolfram’s scowl deepens. “Why is he here? Why are any of you here!?”

                Because Keiji had given me ten tickets, so I brought Wolfram, Murata, Shouri, Abigail, Conrad, Josak, my parents, and would have brought my dogs too if I could, since they like fish. Apparently the tickets were a part of Keiji’s bonus, and he should really talk about that with his manager. That’s just taking advantage of him.

                “To be fair, I’ve been meaning to bring Shibuya here for some time now,” Murata says calmly, crossing his arms. “We were going to see Bandou and Eiji.”

                “Who are this Bandou and Eiji? Are they men!?”

                “They're dolphins!”

                Why would you jump to that conclusion? Granted, it turns out Josak’s friend with the pretty name is a man dressed up as a girl—Damn, now I feel guilty. It’s not like I actually cheated on him!

                After all… it’s not like we’re actually together in the first place.

                I shake away the alarming sense of loneliness that comes with that thought. I can’t be selfish, I was the one who rejected him back then—or rather, I just never accepted him. Come to think of it, that was a mean thing to do. I never took his confession seriously, but that’s because it wasn’t a confession, right? Of course it wasn’t. What am I thinking? It was a mistake.

                There was never anything between us. Only his mistakes and everyone else’s misunderstandings.

                Still, to think he stayed with me all this time, even after all I did was push him away…

                “This is to make things up to you.”

                “Huh?”

                “Murata, we’ll be going on ahead!” I pull Wolfram’s hand and squeeze into the crowd. My parents had already gone onto their n-th honeymoon, Josak had wheedled Murata into showing him the mermaids, and Conrad was being surrounded by girls. They wouldn’t miss us.

                Except maybe Murata. If I ignore my best friend too much, he might give me the wrong answers before the exam, so I’ll buy him a drink later and beg for forgiveness.

                But right now, there’s someone else whose forgiveness I want even more.

                Wolfram stops in his tracks, and I nearly bowl over from the momentum. His emerald eyes sparkles with the light refracted off the rippling water. I always thought they look like the color of the bottom of a lake.

                “Yuuri, what’s that!?”

                I look up instinctively. We’re in the transparent glass tunnel with fish all around us, and the majestic ray is blotting out the sky over us.

                “That’s called a stingray. Sometimes it is dangerous enough to take out even the most famous crocodile hunter, but I heard that in some places, people put it into curry.”

                “How does it taste like?”

                “Like fish?”

                He stares wide-eyed as the ray’s strange mouth passes right over our heads. Those teeth always give me the shivers, but to my surprise, Wolfram starts laughing.

                “It’s so ugly!”

                If I were the stingray, I would be offended, even if the one saying it is a pretty boy.

                “And what’s that?”

                “A monkfish. We eat that sometimes in Japan.”

                “It’s even uglier!”

                …I can’t disagree with that.

                Wolfram points out more fish, including some I can’t name, getting even more excited than the elementary school kids on tour. People are staring, and some parents are telling their children not to look, but watching him so happy, I can’t bring myself to get him to calm down.

                This is my way of redemption.

                “Don’t you have animals like these over in your world?”

                “Of course, but we don’t usually cage them up like this.” Wolfram’s words are unexpectedly harsh even as he stares at the fish with his palms plastered onto the glass. “I would love to see the fish of our seas up close like this—how do you humans come up with this teckinology?”

                His admiration is pure, but pricks me in the chest. I’m not human, but I agree, Earthlings can be cruel. Hastily, before the mood can sour, I change the subject, “Can’t you dive into the sea with your maryoku?”

                “Yuuri, I’m a fire element wielder.”

                I get an image of him going out like a candle in the water, and shake it away. Again I speak without thinking, “Then I’ll take you. Once I learn how to control my powers properly, I’ll take you underwater, and we can see all the fish in your world. And they won’t be in a tank, either.”

                Wolfram smiles. “It’s a promise.”

                Neither of us asks how I’m supposed to get to his world, or question if I could ever accomplish something so difficult. In a way, that makes me happy. He has that faith in me.

                “Yuuri, look! What is this star-shaped thing, is it alive?”

                “Ah, W-Wolf! Put that down, it needs water!”

                To the fish in the touching pool, he’s probably as bad as kindergarteners. He even tries to shove a sea urchin in my face, and gets both disgusted and morbidly curious when I tell him we eat that too.

                “Is there anything you humans don’t eat?” he scoffs, and then, in a smaller voice, “How does it taste like? Is it good?”

                “It is! Next time, I’ll take you.” I answer instantly and way too enthusiastically. In that moment, I swore in my heart to treat him to some good quality uni if it’s the last thing I do, which it might very well be, considering the price.

                “That’s a promise,” he says again, and I suddenly feel as though I just secured myself another date, a much more realistic and possible one than walking the seabed of another world. The thought comes with a wave of panic and… warmth.

                This… really is a date, isn’t it?

                I watch him grope each of the fish in the pool, laughing like a child, and fumble in my pockets for a handkerchief or something afterwards, though I can only find my gloves so I give him those instead. When the crowds start pushing at us to get to the dolphin show, I hold his hand so we don’t get separated. We get chosen from the crowd to touch Bandou’s nose, probably because he stands out so much. I could see Murata pouting at me from the stands, and nearly slip into the water because I got distracted by Josak’s shiny new shades, but Wolfram pulls me into his arms just in time.

                When he lets go, I wish he would have held me longer.

                The dolphin trainer gives us both a dolphin keychain, and Wolfram says he would keep it for his oldest brother back home. After that we watch the mermaid show, trying to hold our breaths as long as the performers (“Because there’s no way we can see all the fish under the sea if we can’t hold our breaths as long as these human women.”), and then bursting into laughter when we see each other turning blue. Wolfram tells me about the maidmer people, pointing at a large tuna swimming lazily in the tanks and then at a beautiful lady with long legs, adding details about Conrad’s unexpected love life that I really could have done without.

                I’m also secretly glad that his eyes don’t linger long on the lady with the great legs. Mine don’t, either, even though I wonder how she can stay warm in shorts that short.

                “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

                The moment I say that, Wolfram takes off his scarf and puts it around my neck, looking away when I try to thank him.

                He really is quite cute.

                At the souvenir shop, he tries on a pair of dolphin-themed glasses, and asks me seriously if I would prefer him that way.

                Stop.

                At the aquarium café, as we’re waiting for the others to come out, he sees a couple sharing a large parfait with heart-shaped spoons, and insists that we get the same.

                Don’t.

                But I say yes anyway, and ask for extra syrup because I know he has a sweet tooth. While I’m paying, he goes back into the souvenir shop and comes back with matching wristbands.

                If you keep doing this, I’ll—

                “Yuuri,” he says with a smile. I can almost see myself reflected in those beautiful, beautiful emerald eyes. “That was fun, wasn’t it? Let’s come here again someday.”

                --I’ll really fall in love with you.

                I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry despite the strawberry-flavored cream. “I’m really busy these days, so… you could come here again by yourself.”

                “Hmm,” he licks his spoon, savoring the slightly sour sweetness. “But it’s only fun because I’m with you, Yuuri.”

                I close my eyes.

                It seems it’s already far too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...or is this too much development lol


	21. Second Time Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri heads back towards the cherry tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it seems the fluff last time was well-received, which is why... we're back to angst? sorta?
> 
> But at any rate, circumstances have changed =w=

“What, you’re only saying that now?”

                “You’re not helping,” I snap at Murata.

                “Whoa there, what happened to service with a smile?”

                “You’re not a customer, you didn’t order anything.”

                “In that case, I’ll have a glass of milk, please.”

                We high school students in a bar are rather pathetic. I sigh heavily, looking forward to the day I turn twenty. I’ll probably be bigger, and have more muscles and chest hair by then, because I’m sure I grow at a regular speed despite being mazoku. I wonder, would Wolfram have changed at all? And would he finally get that beard he wanted so badly?

                “Shibuya, can I be honest with you?”

                “If you ask like that, I’m going to wonder when you weren’t honest with me.”

                Murata chuckles, and purposely sips his milk with his upper lip so he gets a milk mustache. After checking his reflection in the mirror behind the counter, he turns around in his bar stool and wags his eyebrows at the group of customers behind him, earning a chorus of giggles. It seems the couple of straight high school boys in the gay bar had gotten a bit of buzz around Ni-chome, and now I know how the dolphins feel like. My hand shakes a bit when I mix the next drink, but instead of a scolding I get a peck on the cheek by one of the onee-onii-san.

                Murata is grinning. “Imagine, how disappointed they would be if they found out you’re not that straight after all.”

                Hmm, but I’m pretty sure I heard the ladies take bets on when we’ll be ‘converted’. Right now, it seems Gurrier and that red-haired person who is one head taller than him with a voice deeper than bass are leading, since they voted for yesterday. Though I’m pretty sure that in Josak’s case, he’s definitely cheating.

                “But seriously, Shibuya.” Murata laces his fingers and rests his elbows on the counter. Uh-oh, whenever he gets like this I just know I’m not going to like what he says next. “If I’ll be really honest with you, I’d tell you to cut it off while you still can.”

                My hand jerks, spilling the brandy. Katsura walks past my back, shaking his head. “That’s coming out of your salary, Yuu-chan.”

                I mumble an apology and then round down on Murata. “W-what do you mean by that?”

                “What I said. It’s a fruitless love, so you should quit while you’re ahead.”

                My voice comes out hoarse. “Why?”

                “Think about it, Shibuya. He’s not from this world. And he’s still got family and a life back there, so it won’t be like in the dramas where the alien settles down with you in the end.” He pauses. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to give up everything and go with him.”

                I’m too hung up on his previous statement to hear the second part properly. Wolfram… will go back? Of course… of course he will. I remember how little he brought with him, of course he’s not here for the long haul. Then I look up, at Josak hustling around the tables merrily.

                Josak will go away too. I bet Katsura-san would be heartbroken.

                And Conrad, what about his classes? The students are relying on him. Not that I mean Josak is a bad teacher, of course, just that PE and English are two very different subjects, y’know.

                Not to mention, the club… What will happen to the club if all of them leave?

                What will happen to me?

                Murata’s alarmed voice calls me back to my senses. “Shibuya, calm down! It’s not as though they’re leaving right now.”

                “Y-yeah.” I blink a few times. “It’s—I’m fine.”

                “No, you’re not. You look like you’re about to cry.”

                I lower my eyes. “Sorry.”

                Murata sighs. “No, I should be sorry. I should have warned you before you got in too deep.”

                “I’m glad you didn’t,” I shake my head furiously. “All those fun times we had together—I’m really glad we had them.” If I had realized from the start that all this is temporary, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy my time with them as purely as I did.

                “If I send you home like this, Lord von Bielefeld will have my throat.” Murata swirls around on his stool, leaning on the counter with his arms spread out beside him so all I can see is his back. “Bear in mind that I’m saying this against my own conscience, but worrying about the future doesn’t suit you, Shibuya.”

                “Hey! Are you saying I don’t think ahead?”

                “I’m saying that you’re the most appealing when you don’t. You’re more the type to live sincerely while you can, y’know?” There is a brief pause before Murata says, “If you really like them that much, go ahead. If you’re going to be sad in the future anyway, you might as well be happy now. Though if it’s you, maybe you can do something to change the future, too.”

                I scratch my face embarrassedly at the praise, and Murata jumps off his stool, stumbling in the heels he was experimenting with. Yup, Josak and the deep-voiced oneesan are definitely winning this bet. Without turning back to me, Murata puts down his payment and struts off stylishly, even throwing his non-existent locks over his shoulder and saying, “Keep the change.”

                But what I didn’t know until a long time later, when Josak was gone and I met Katsura on the street, is that Murata’s expression back then was of deep regret.

 

Despite what Murata said, that I was better off not thinking about the future, it’s a lot easier said than done.

                That night, once I reached home early enough so I could still make it to school tomorrow, I tried to imagine the dining table without any of our visitors. We didn’t think of them as visitors anymore, y’know. We haven’t in a long time.

                Conrad is in the living room teaching our dogs tricks, and despite the saying about old dogs, Cian is really trying to learn how to roll over. Watching him struggle at it is like seeing a beetle on its back, but slightly more pathetic and slightly more adorable. I kick the other dog, Zin, lightly. The lazy thing is pretending to sleep.

                “He was doing very well just now, so he deserves a break,” Conrad says with a smile. None of us have any idea how he’s doing it, which means if he ever leaves, the dogs will probably forget all those tricks within a month.

                I wonder, will they forget him?

                When I go into my room, Wolfram is already tucked into bed, though he peels open an eye when I walk in. He didn’t even turn off the light, because of that time I accidentally stubbed my toe in the dark. I know he can fall asleep even with the light on, but that little act of consideration just warms up my chest, while at the same time pinching it mercilessly.

                “Hurry up and get under your covers, wimp, it’s cold out.”

                He wasn’t kidding. As soon as I take off my slippers, the cold seeps up from the floorboards to envelop my toes and shoots up my spine. Shuddering violently, I dive underneath the blankets.

                If he goes home, I won’t need to sleep on the floor anymore. Right now, my bed is acting as a dumping site for our clothes. If he goes home, I can take away his futon so I can actually see the floor. I can air out my clothes properly in my closet, so I won’t pull out a shirt only to find it’s all wrinkled because the insides of the wardrobe is just too cramped.

                “What’s the matter?” The lights are off now, but in the moonlight I can still see that his eyes are closed. Even with his eyes closed, even when he’s just about to nod off, he can still tell something’s wrong with me.

                I laugh wryly to myself. I really am no good as an actor.

                “Nothing. It’s just really cold, that’s all.”

                He sighs exasperatedly, and holds up his blankets. “Come in here, you wimp. Just for tonight, you got it? You need to train yourself up.”

                “What’s the point? You’ll just kick everything off by the morning anyway.”

                “Do you want it or not!?”

                I shut my mouth, and snuggle up to him. As usual, he’s so warm. Within seconds, before I can even feel awkward about it, he starts with his strange kettle-like snoring. Soon, he’ll probably lodge his foot in my ribs, and we’ll wake up twisted over each other like a pretzel that fell onto the ground.

                Before all that happens, I put my arms around him and rest my face on his shoulder.

                I don’t want him to go home.

 

I really don’t want any of them to leave. But I know I can’t stop them.

                That’s why by morning I decide to just forget about it for now. It’s a bit cowardly of me, since I’m basically running away from it, but I’m not as great as Murata makes me sound. There’s nothing I can do about it. All I can do is make sure they enjoy themselves as much as they can here, and then I’ll have plenty of memories to look back to. A lifetime’s worth.

                Things become more precious when you know it won’t last. That’s why people still line up for cheap toys from fast food restaurants, and why my G-Shock is worth a fraction of the watch my mom bought for my old man during their anniversary. Apparently it’s why Abigail and Rodriguez convinced Shouri to buy a figurine of a magical girl worth ten thousand yen, and why the instant photos of Josak hijacking the mermaid tank at the aquarium are selling like hotcakes on the internet. I came across the prices when Josak left the browser on one day, and ever since then I’ve been wondering if I should sell the autographed one I have. Photographer: Murata Ken – Model and signed by: Josak Gurrier.

                Like I said, things are more valuable when they’re limited edition. That is why I decided that day to appreciate every English class, every baseball club practice, and especially every lunch time. That is also why I’m slightly annoyed that someone else called me out before I could get to the rooftop with Wolfram.

                “Shibuya-kun, could you come with me for a while?”

                The one who asked is one of our pretty sub-managers, a third year senior who lets us all call her Rika-chan. Apparently she’s Tajima-senpai’s childhood friend, so she knew the baseball club quite well even before I joined, which makes her something of an elder in the club. As expected of an older, more mature lady, she has a curvy body and a shiny smile. The only thing she’s always complaining about is her small eyes. When she smiles her eyes curve up and become even smaller, but I always thought it just made her look friendlier.

                I assumed she was going to ask me about club matters – in the end, I’m not much better at paperwork than my other seniors – so I just follow her blankly until I realize we were heading towards the cherry tree. The last time I went there…

                The memories come flashing back, and I stop dead in my tracks.

                She stops a few steps ahead of me. Neither of us speaks for a while, then she turns around with a smile, tucking her wavy short hair behind her ear.

                “So you figured it out? Ah, well, it’s not as romantic here, but I suppose it’s quiet enough.”

                We had just left the corridor between the gym and the main school building, and are now standing behind the changing rooms. If I was found stalking here alone, I would be surely accused of being a pervert. As it is, the sound of girls’ chattering and the echo from the basketball courts would probably hide whatever we say here. It’s a good place for a private chat.

                As expected of an older, more mature lady.

                I can’t help but notice that she had undone the top button of her uniform and loosened her ribbon. It’s probably just because the weather is slightly hotter today, but I can almost see the white lace of her bra. Hastily I turn away, my face burning up.

                She chuckles, a sweet ringing sound. “Shibuya-kun… Do you mind if I call you Yuuri?”

                “No!” I react instinctively. Right now, only two people call me by my name, and one of them is the person who gave me that name. As for the other…

                But it seems that my instant reaction hurt her. “Ah… I see. Sorry for overstepping.” She lowers her head, shoulders sagging.

                “I-I mean, I—” It’s my first time hurting a girl. But at the same time, I can’t take it back.

                “In that case, can I call you Yuu-chan?” She peeps out from underneath her fringe, looking at me expectantly.

                “H-huh?” Only my family and Gurrier… and half of Ni-chome call me that, but seeing as she’s about to slump again, I quickly add, “Sure!”

                She brightens up immediately, and I get the feeling I’ve been played like a set piece.

                “Great! Then Yuu-chan can call me Rika, okay?”

                “Eh? But that’s—”

                “It’s decided,” she says forcefully. Her attitude vaguely reminds me of someone—was it someone I knew from middle school? “So, Yuu-chan, would you do me a favor and accept this?”

                I look down, and see her holding out a pink envelope. At the bottom corner, it’s signed ‘Hashimoto Rika’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how many people recognize that name? Cuz I'm sure Yuuri wouldn't XD
> 
> If you don't remember, don't cheat! Just wait for tomorrow and find out together with Yuuri, haha


	22. Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri and Wolfram both experience a first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transitioning into a new... thing already, pretty sure that was too short to be an arc

“Hashimoto… Hashimoto… where have I heard that name…”

                “I think my sister was in the same middle school class as you.”

                “Ah!” I tap my fist on my palm, recalling that competitive girl with the long straight hair. The sisters don’t look much alike, but in a way they really are similar. “So, Hashimoto-senpai, are you sure you didn’t get the wrong person?”

                “Ehh, Yuu-chan, that’s so cold!” she protests loudly. “Rika, call me Rika!”

                She reminds me a bit of my mother too. Now there’s a scary thought.

                “And of course I didn’t get it wrong, see? Your name is written right here. ‘To Shibuya Yuuri’.”

                I almost wish she had written it as ‘Harajuku Fuuri’. At least that way I can call it off as a joke and go back.

                “Aren’t you going to accept it?”

                I look down. “S-senpai, I don’t think…”

                “Why not?” She cocks her head to one side. “If it’s anything to do with me, I can change.”

                “It’s not—”

                “Do you prefer my sister’s style instead? I can leave my hair long and straighten it.”

                “No, I—”

                “Or do you not like older girls?”

                That’s not true. I do like older girls, I know I do. I always have. I like it when they’re confident and mature, and caring, and daring. Murata once commented that it’s the opposite of Freud, since my mother is always acting young and cute. According to him, I’ve been traumatized since young and that affected my taste in women.

                However, even if she says some things like my mom, I know that Rika-san is my type. Even now, she still is.

                But—

                “I’m sorry.” I hang my head, staring at my shoes. This is my first time being confessed to by a girl, so I really don’t know how to react. It’s a bit uncomfortable.

                “You like someone else, don’t you?”

                Now it’s my turn to peek through my short fringe. She’s smiling slightly, though I’m not sure if that’s a happy smile.

                “…Yeah.”

                “Is it Wolfram-kun?”

                My head shoots up. Her smile just widens.

                “How did you—”

                “Uh-uh, Yuu-chan, no cheating.” She wags a finger in my face. “I’m about to have my heart broken here, I would at least like you to be honest about it. Tell me, do you like von Bielefeld Wolfram? Just yes or no.”

                “…Yes.”

                “What was that?”

                “Yes, I do!”

                “Yes what?”

                “I like him!”

                “You like who?”

                “I like—” I realize I’m just about shouting, but she isn’t going to let me off. So I release the huge breath I had taken, and rather than yelling it out for the entire changing room to here – I would definitely be called a pervert for that – I say it softly, “I like von Bielefeld Wolfram.”

                As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel as though something deep inside changes. An indescribable, imperceptible pressure disappears, but in its place is a sense of inevitability. I never told anyone that. Even Murata figured it out from my gestures and silences. I never actually said it aloud.

                Saying it out loud made it real. Now I really can’t hide from it anymore. Those feelings were suspended in my chest, with fear and the knowledge that it could never end well. The strings were my self-preservation lifelines, my rational mind trying to protect my heart. But like Murata said, I was in too deep.

                With those words, the words that came out from my mouth, those strings were cut. Those feelings—those heavy, bittersweet feelings settle firmly onto the surface of my heart, and I know it will be difficult, if not impossible, to get rid of them from now on. But at least I’m not hanging anymore.

                It brings a sense of relief that is echoed by Rika’s sigh. She says, almost as though to herself, “There, that wasn’t that bad, now was it?”

                I glare at her wistfully. “Are you happy now?”

                “Hmm, as happy as a girl can be when the boy she likes confesses that he likes another boy, I guess. Which is pretty decent.” She stretches her arms, and laughs at the look in my face. “What, did you think I was kidding? Or that I was trying to trick you into confessing? Well, maybe I wanted to hear you confess, but I really did like you, y’know.”

               She looks at the unopened letter in her hand somewhat sadly, then stuffs it into her pocket. “I better get rid of this, then. It wouldn’t do for Wolfram-kun to find this. Ahh, but I put so much effort into it too, and it wasn’t even opened. What a waste…”

                I really am weak to a woman’s sighs. In spite of myself, I say, “If you don’t mind, I could at least look at it—”

                “Nuh-uh, no way!” She practically shoves her palm into my face. “Yuu-chan, sometimes kindness is cruelty. Now that you’ve rejected me, you can’t show me any kindness, not even a bit! If you do, you’re being cruel to yourself, to me, and even to Wolfram-kun.”

                The mention of his name now makes me balk a little, and she laughs again.

                “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him about this. But you really do like him a lot, don’t you?” She musses my hair hard. I suppose when it comes to dealing with older women, I should be used to being treated like a kid. “Aaaah, I can’t help it! Yuu-chan, I just love how you’re so cute!”

                In the end, I got confessed to anyway. I won’t deny that it makes me a little bit happy, although I’m exasperated at the same time, and more than a bit confused.

                “Senpai…”

                “Rika.”

                “…Rika, could I ask you something?” I take a deep breath, and hoping that I don’t come off as narcissistic, I plow on, “What do you like about me?”

                She raises her eyebrows. They’re well-drawn, like clear dark crescents standing out against her fair face. “Why do you ask?”

                “I-it’s not because I want to feel good or anything!” I wave my hands frantically, and when I realize how fake that sounds, I try as sincerely as I can to explain, “I just want to know, because I’m an idiot who doesn’t understand anything.”

                She puts her fist to her mouth and laughs until she’s bent over. “Oh, Yuu-chan… Even if y-you don’t want t-to sound arrogant, haha, you don’t h-have to put yourself down so much…”

                I can only stand around helplessly as my senior, the girls who claims to like me, laughs her head off at my embarrassment. By the time she recovers, I realize that lunch time is almost over. Suddenly, inexplicably, I have the sudden urge to run to the rooftop.

                She wipes the tears away from the corners of her eyes. “That’s what I like about you, Yuu-chan. I like how you’re straightforward and simple, I like how you pursue your goals with a one-track mind, and how you’re always constantly worrying over everyone in the team like a mother hen. Oh, and I like how you’re slow on the uptake sometimes, like now.”

                …I don’t get it, am I supposed to be happy about that?

                She flicks my forehead. It hurts. “And in a strange way, I like how truly you like Wolfram.” Her smile turns into self-jest. “Does that make me something of an M? Ah, well, if an old crone like me can’t find a guy, at least I can get some pleasure from seeing two pretty guys make out.”

                I flush all the way up to the roots of my hairs, and stammer, “B-b-but se—Rika, you still have Tajima-senpai?”

                “Who, Tacchan?” She dismisses me with a wave. “That guy has nothing in his head at all except baseball.”

                Isn’t that what people always say about me? I’ll never understand girls.

                “It’s all about this,” she says, poking me hard in the chest. “Now go on before your little friend suspects anything, don’t think I didn’t notice how you’ve been glancing at the roof. Is he waiting for you there?”

                I sure hope so. “He probably already suspects the worst, that guy gets jealous really ridiculously easily.”

                She chuckles. “But you still love him, don’t you? Or is that why you love him?”

                I practically run away from that place, but in order to comfort and convince myself that I’m not a wimp like he always says I am, I tell myself that I’m not running away from her. Instead, I’m running towards someone else.

                That someone waits for me on the rooftop even after the bell has rung, leaning on the fence with his arms folded and his eyes closed. By the time I reach him, panting, we’re both already two minutes late. He should have gone ahead without me, there was no point in both of us being late.

                But there he is, still waiting. What if I hadn’t come?

                He stands there so casually, and yet with such poise, that I could imagine him waiting there forever.

                In the end, we’re five minutes late by the time we get back to class. Our English teacher smiles at us brightly and gives us both cleaning duty for three days.

 

On the last day of our punishment, the class holds an emergency meeting.

                “The school festival is happening next month,” the class monitor announces. “Each class has to do something. What do you guys have in mind?”

                Almost all eyes float over to my side of the class, and settle on Wolfram behind me. Their gazes are so intense that I can almost physically feel them, like lasers poring right through me to land on Wolfram. I know that I’m nothing compared to him, and I’m used to being ignored by others when he’s with me, but somehow their blatant stares get on my nerves today.

                One by one, hands start going up.

                “Let’s do a play! Something with a prince in it.”

                “A butler café!”

                “A pretty boy exhibition?”

                Hey hey hey, aren’t you being too obvious? And how can that even work, there’s only one guy here good-looking enough to pull that off. Don’t tell you want it to be a one-man-show? I stand up straighter in my seat, glaring at the girl who gave that option. As if I’ll let you pile on the work on Wolf.

                “They’re trying to take advantage of you.” Wolfram leans in and speaks with barely-suppressed anger. “The nerve of them.”

                “Me?” I ask. “What do you mean? They’re obviously looking at you.”

                “At least half of them are looking at you. Even they can see how cute you are.”

                It’s not the first time he’s told me that. I know all about his distorted sense of beauty, and he says it matter-of-factly, as though it’s obvious. Even though I know that, and I know it means nothing about how he actually feels about me as a person, I still can’t stop my heart from beating faster.

                Ah, I’m totally hopeless now.

                I sigh, and raise my hand to vote for the café. Someone sensible finally argues that having (one) pretty boys is not enough, so they turn it into a maid-and-butler café. The ones who don’t want to embarrass themselves by dressing up figure they can get a job as the kitchen crew, so they reject the play as well.

                No one votes for the exhibition idea, though I can see some of the girls looking disappointed.

                “Alright, now we need to appoint two main committee members to organize this.” The monitor is a shoo-in for one of the positions, since she’s already used to dealing with the higher-ups.  She knows it too, adding her name onto the board without asking us first. “Any suggestions for the second person?”

                As expected, people immediately start yelling out Wolfram’s name. Geez, how many of you actually know him? You barely talk to him in class, and yet now you’re so enthusiastically voting to elect him.

                A small voice reminds me that they don’t know him very well because he only hangs out with me, and they do try to talk to him, but he tends to reply with disinterest more often than not. I wave away that voice impatiently, and raise my hand.

                “I volunteer.”

                Are you kidding me? Unlike the rest of you guys, he didn’t grow up in this world. “This is Wolf’s first carnival, right? He wouldn’t know what to do.”

                I peek over my shoulder. Good, it doesn’t seem like he’s offended. He catches my eye and just shrugs. “If Yuuri’s doing it, I’ll help.”

                “…eh? Again…?”

                “Why are you always giving him orders?”

                “C’mon, Wolfram, be a man! Take charge for once!”

                It’s different from the whispers last time. This time they don’t bother to hide their dissatisfaction, and despite the teasing tone, I feel the pressure of the whole class on us. I glance at him again.

                “Tsk.” He looks away. “Yuuri, you decide.”

                Why me? Suddenly I realize they might have a point.

                “Everyone agrees on Wolfram?”

                This time when they vote, I raise my hand too, adding, “And I’ll help him out.”

                Everyone else ignores me, surrounding him and chattering his ear off about themes, costumes, cooking and volunteering for different aspects. I see him getting interested despite himself, and the corners of my lips curve skyward.

                Well, if he wants to do it, who am I to stop him? I turn my seat around and listen to the suggestions seriously, grinning at him when ours eyes meet.

                This time, I’ll be the one supporting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing the whole confession thing before I sat back and was like, okay was that totally necessary? But looking at the story now I'm like, the only female charas are Miko and Abigail, so... //turns around in circles
> 
> Also the reaction to the aquarium date reminded me I promised fluff in the tags, and I guess the relationship hasn't progressed enough to the point where I can end it yet so... extra arc? Oh, and I'm going on hiatus starting tomorrow for a three-day camp, see you guys Tuesday/Wednesday! Depending on how long I get to keep my phone, I might be late in replying to messages too haha


	23. Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri's feelings shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose the events of last chapter would have made a difference?

“So first, we need a checklist.”

                Wolfram nods, and squints at the words on the paper. “Food, clothes, and… defecation?”

                That’s ‘decoration’. I sigh, but at the same time, I can’t help smiling.

                He scowls at me. “Don’t make fun of me!”

                “I’m not.” I’m just wondering how you can be so cute. “As the organizer, you have to supervise the whole event, right? Which means you don’t have to dress up and be a waiter if you don’t want to.”

                Wolfram catches the hint in my voice. “You don’t want me to?”

                To be honest, of course I don’t want him to. People notice him enough as it is, if he dresses up nicely and actually makes an effort to please the customers, even more people will fall for him, and he’ll end up breaking even more hearts when he inevitably leaves. As his closest friend here, I have a duty to prevent him getting even more bad karma. Also, who do you think will be left to clean up his mess? Mm-hmm, no matter how you think about it, I have every reason to hide his beauty from the world.

                And well… I don’t need any more rivals in love.

                Is this what they call the desire to monopolize? All these new feelings make me feel rather helpless. And I have to be careful, because I remind myself, the last thing I want to become is a bossy, jealous tsundere. So I ignore the voice in my head that’s raging around possessively and say,

                “Well, in the end it’s up to you. It’s not like I have the right to order you around.”

                Wolfram thinks it over, and says, “If I dress up, will you dress up too?”

                “Huh?”

                “Because I wanna see you dress up.”

                My heart rises up in my chest and I force it down again. No, Shibuya Yuuri. Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not worth it. But come to think of it, if I could see Wolfram in that butler’s uniform, serving a glass of sparkling wine with a dazzling smile—

                I clap my hand to my face, and turn my eyes to the ceiling. Nuh-uh, no way. That’s bad for the heart.

                “Ih yoh wahoo fi me—”

                “I can’t hear you, take your hand away.”

                Carefully I put down my hand. Good, it doesn’t look like any suspicious juices leaked out. “If you want to see me dress up, we could—”

                “Go to Akihabara?”

                “No!” What do you want to see me in, a magical girl costume!? That image will burn your eyes off. “I was going to say, why don’t you come with me to work on Sunday night? I’m sure my boss won’t mind.” In fact, I bet he’ll be positively delighted.

                Wolfram crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows, pouting slightly. “I thought you didn’t want me there. What changed your mind?”

                Well… I was always worried he’d yell at me for working at a place like that. Hmm, but come to think of it, why was I worried about that in the first place? It’s not like… there’s anything between us… right? Technically there’s no reason for him to be jealous.

                “Yuuri?”

                I look at him with a completely solemn expression, which seems to take him by surprise. Slowly his expression turns serious too, as he waits for me to explain. The atmosphere is tense enough to cut through with a knife, and then I say,

                “Wolfram, I need you to promise me something.”

                He nods heavily. “What is it?”

                “When you’re there, you must be constantly on alert. No matter what the people say or do, do not ever let your guard down.”

                “Of course.” He puts his hand on his chest, reminding me that he was a soldier. “Anything else?”

                “Don’t accept any strange drinks.” I add on hindsight, “Except for the ones I give you.”

                Confusion flashes across his face but he quickly recovers. “Naturally. I’m not a fool.”

                “And be careful of the wigs, some of the pins get stuck in your hair.”

                “…Huh?”

                “Oh, and don’t simply borrow anyone’s lipstick either. It’s not hygienic.”

                “Yuuri…”

                What else, what else… I tap my fist on my palm. “I almost forgot! If it’s your first time in heels, don’t run too fast, or you’ll sprain your ankle like Murata did.”

                _“Yuuri!”_ He lunges at me. _“What kind of place have you been going to!?”_

I find myself grinning like an idiot, until he starts choking me.

 

He’s still fuming when I bring him to work on Sunday night. In fact, I’ve never seen his expression so dark.

                “You’re surprisingly a terrible person at times, Shibuya,” Murata notes as Wolfram sits in a corner of the bar, stirring his drink furiously. I made it for him personally, a twist on Josak’s sparkly golden drink with a bright green cherry. “I would never have expected this of you.”

                “It’s not as though I like seeing him angry,” I protest, but softly so that person doesn’t come for my head again. “But think about it, why would he be angry?”

                “I don’t know, your good friend and roommate—scratch that, your bedmate for the past few months just found out that you secretly go to a gay bar behind his back. Why do you think he’s mad?”

                 “Wolfram’s not like that. You’re the one who told me they’re more accepting about things like this over there, right?”

                “So you think he might be jealous?”

                I look at the ceiling, then at the floor, and then at the drink I spilled again. “W-well, doesn’t it seem like that?”

                “Shibuya, who put that idea into your head?”

                My eyes wander to Josak, who is currently sitting on Conrad’s lap. My godfather had decided to tag along, since the rest of us were going anyway. Although he seems to be acting perfectly smooth with the ladies, I can tell from the very slight tightness around his smile that he really slightly very much regrets coming. They’re all on top of him like a swarm of ants, and Josak is literally on top of him.

                Murata holds his head. “Are you seriously taking love advice from Gurrier?”

                “…I thought he seemed experienced.”

                “But are you sure his type of experience is what you want?”

                I let my shoulders slump. “So I was reading too much into it, huh.” To think, I’d be the type to let my feelings completely override my brain… No, I think I was always that kind of person. It’s not surprising at all, but at the same time, knowing that doesn’t help much either.

                “Hmm? Oh, no, you’re perfectly right. He’s totally jealous.”

                I perk up again. Murata looks completely amused.

                “I take it back, I understand why you played with Bielefeld now. This is fun.”

                “Don’t make me put wasabi into your milk, Murata. So you think he might l-li—he might think nicely about me too?”

                “Oh, all of us in this bar think very nicely of you.”

                “You know what I mean!”

                He shrugs. “Why are you asking me? He’s right there, just ask him.”

                I glance over to the corner, and my eyes meet Wolfram’s. He puts down his cup, storms over to us, and takes a seat one place away from Murata. “Yuuri.”

                I dutifully obey, and as soon as I’m standing in front of him, he yanks me down by the bowtie. “Why. Did. You. _Bring me here!?_ ”

                “You said you wanted to see me dress up, didn’t you?” I nod at my bartender’s uniform, complete with s wine-red apron. I don’t know much about fashion, but I’m pretty sure this looks better than a baseball jersey.

                Reluctantly he lets go of my bow, and I take a few steps back to let him appreciate the whole view, even twirling once or twice and making a couple of poses. Over by the tables the other customers are giggling away and I even see a camera flash, but I resolutely ignore them. Katsura shakes his head at us, but I forgive him since he had slipped me a bonus earlier, partly because he had been bugging me to introduce my ‘sweetheart’ for some time, and partly in exchange for detailed stories about any future dates the extra allowance would pay for.

                It took a while, but I think I got the hang of my boss now. For example, I can tell that he’s as anxious as I am to hear Wolfram’s reaction to my little fashion show.

                “Not bad,” Wolfram says finally, and my heart settles just a little bit. Katsura prods me in the back in lieu of congratulations, earning a glare from Wolfram before he struts off to continue with his work. He’s even humming happily.

                Wolfram’s emerald gaze follows him with considerably less humor. “Is that one interested in you too? Yuuri, you’re such a shameless flirt.”

                “What? No, he’s my boss!” Besides, the one he’s interested in is you, but not in that way, thankfully. Anyway, I have to get back to the topic at hand. “So now that you’ve seen me like this, you won’t dress up at the café?”

                He raises an eyebrow. “Why are you still on about that?”

                Because I don’t want you to be nice to anyone else. “You’ll break too many hearts, it’s bad karma.”

                “What’s kahma?”

                Beside us, Murata is practically pounding on the counter, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. It’s harder to ignore him like that, but I try my best. “It’s the bad energy you get when you do bad things. If you collect a lot of it, you won’t be able to reincarnate, or you’ll come back as a ghost.” I even pose with my hands in front of my chest, grabbing violently at the air. Apparently, Murata tells me later, the effect is more like a T-Rex with a seizure.

                Wolfram looks suitably spooked, though, and finally agrees to do something else for the café. I heave a sigh of relief, while at the same time feeling guilty for having tricked him. At an angle he can’t see, Murata shakes his head and sighs exaggeratedly like a disappointed grandparent. I finally give up on ignoring him, sliding down the counter to his seat and hitting him solidly on top of the head. He retaliates by stabbing my solar plexus with his spoon.

               By the time I get back to Wolfram with a few extra bruises, he looks rather restless. Faced with my enquiring gaze, he asks with uncharacteristic awkwardness, “I-if that’s all, can we go back now?”

                It’s understandable, the gazes in this bar are a lot bolder and well, older than those in class. But we have a law here in Katsura-san’s place, y’see. No one makes a move on anyone who’s already claimed by one of our own. The one-onii-sans may be staring freely, but they also patted me on the back, gave me thumbs-ups, and whispered tips or tricks that make my face burn up. In other words, I feel a hundred percent safe here.

                “Oh, wait, there’s something else.” I duck into the kitchenette and scoop out a serving of stew. When we were renovating after the fire, we decided to try out something different. “Here, try this.”

                Wolfram eyes the thick stew suspiciously, but looks surprised after the first taste. “This isn’t too bad, either.”

                “I know, right?” I grin proudly. “Guess who made it?”

                “You?”

               “Huh? No way, it’s Josak. But he did say he could teach us.” I lean back on the counter and spread my arms grandly. “Since you’re in charge of the café for the festival, I thought you could use some inspiration. What do you think of the atmosphere here?”

                Before Wolfram can say anything, Murata interrupts exasperatedly, “Shibuya, I don’t think a bar theme is very appropriate for a high school festival.”

                “I don’t mean the alcohol. I’m talking about the décor, and the food. Of course, we can always look at other places later. There are plenty cafes around town, we should check them out too. When we’re free, I mean.”

                Murata throws me a knowing look, but Wolfram doesn’t sense a thing. After some contemplation, he nods solemnly.

                “That’s a good idea. I do need to know more about popular eateries for young Earthlings. But aren’t you always busy after school, Yuuri?”

                “We can’t skip club practices, but I don’t think they need me at the grasslot all the time. How about Tuesday evening?”

                “Sure.”

                For the first time in my life, I willingly pass up on baseball.

               

In the end, Wolfram decides to focus his energy on decorations. With his drawings and sense of style, I’m sure our café will turn out really fancy. And unsurprisingly, he sets me on drinks duty.

                Between practice and work, and now the preparations for the festival, our schedules get extra hectic. And to make it worse, a week before the festival, Rodriguez gets Murata to invite me out for coffee.

                “Yo, Yuuri-kun! How ya feelin’?”

                Apparently this man is particularly close to Bob, the maou of Earth. Talking to him now that I know that gives me a vaguely starstruck feeling, no matter how he insists he’s just a lowly lackey and complains about how much he’s overworked.

                After one round of coffee, though, his expression turns serious.

                “Yuuri-kun, I heard your school is having a festival soon. Is that true?”

                Taken aback by the abrupt change in atmosphere, I just nod.

                Rodriguez sighs. “I was worried about that. Y’see, your brother blabbed to Bob about that, and it seems my boss wants to go to this carnival of yours. Personally I think he just wants to see the visitors make fools of themselves, that dodgy old man.”

                In that case, he might be disappointed. The ‘visitors’ are adapting perfectly well, thank you very much, so there wouldn’t be much to see.

                …Except Josak, maybe, because no one knows Josak might do.

                “Is it wise, though?” Murata interrupts. “Don’t we already know some anti-mazoku people at the school?”

                “The ones we know are fine,” Rodriguez groans. “We can watch out for them easy. The problem is that we’re fairly sure news of Bob’s planned trip has already reached some ears we’d rather them not reach, you get what I mean?”

                Murata’s expression stiffens, and the silence that falls upon is tense. I look from one of them to the other, completely out of the loop.

                “Uh… So, sorry but, what do you mean?”

                Rodriguez puts a hand on my shoulder, and says gravely,

                “I mean, it seems that there is a traitor among the mazoku.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri being honest with his feelings... is strange, and at the same time, completely natural. How curious.
> 
> So with Chinese New Year almost upon us, it seems I'll be MIA again so soon again after the camp =-= Hopefully I'll be able to continue adding to my stock of drafts, but it's unlikely I'll be posting regularly, maybe not at all, since where I'm going there's no WiFi... 
> 
> I give it a week at most, sorry for the delay! T^T


	24. Wolfram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the other side of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a small tradition of mine to name POV-change chapters after the POV-change character... Ah, who am I kidding? This is just me being too lazy to think of another chapter title, I'll regret it if ever I have another sorta Wolfram-POV chapter.

Shibuya Yuuri is a strange person, one that would make a strange king.

                For one thing, he shows all his emotions on his face. Now, for example, he’s obviously troubled by something. Is it the festival? Or the baseball tournament that supposedly starts a few weeks after that? Or the rumors about his preferences? There’s no telling. Wolfram watches him scratch his notebook distractedly.

                “Yuuri, you’re doing that part wrong.”

                “Huh?”

                “Your homework. The question is asking you to divide the numbers, not add them up.”

                “W-what? But that’s a plus symbol!”

                “Look closely. You were playing connect the dots in class, remember?”

                “…somehow it hurts to have you teach me mathematics…”

                Without hesitation, he rubs away his work and starts from scratch. Beside him, Wolfram feels rather restless.

                I could have not said anything. I could have made that up, and he would be wasting all his efforts. There are so many things that could have gone wrong, and yet not one of those possibilities crossed Yuuri’s mind. The guy has no sense of danger whatsoever. If he becomes king, he would need a guard and an advisor all the time.

                Well, Lord Weller would do perfectly fine as a guard. His loyalty is also very much guaranteed; in fact, Wolfram wonders if his second brother isn’t a bit _too_ attached. It seems those rumors about him and Lady von Wincott Suzanna Julia have some truth to them after all, but Wolfram can’t pretend to approve of it. Those wishy-washy feelings of love or whatnot should be kept aside from a soldier’s loyalty to king and country, and Conrart is getting them all mixed up. To make things worse, he even seems to truly consider Yuuri as his godson. Sure, Yuuri wouldn’t have been born without him, but isn’t that going a bit too far?

                Wolfram shakes his head. Really, they are all so troublesome. He’ll have to keep an eye out for all of them.

                As for the role of advisor… his mind wanders back to Shin Makoku, where it seems Lord von Christ is still beside himself with excitement. By now, the old man would probably have conjured up a perfect image of a double-black king, and maybe even dedicated a shrine to that illusion. He may be wise and experienced in academic and diplomatic matters, but everyone knows he is disastrously biased. Yuuri would need him for paperwork, but he needs another voice of (more) reason.

                Wolfram automatically skips over Lord von Voltaire. He simply can’t imagine his eldest brother, a man fit to be king himself, attending to another. Once, he would have completely denied the idea of Gwendal obeying a half-human maou altogether, but Shinou’s word is and always be law. Besides… maybe Yuuri isn’t as bad as Wolfram thought he would be. Nevertheless, the first son should still be a lord in his own right, perhaps not equal to but also not far below a king. Wolfram trusts that Yuuri would understand that as soon as he sees Gwendal.

                That reminds him of Anissina, his brother’s childhood friend. A lot of the inventions here on Earth would fascinate her, and possibly endanger the rest of the castle even further. The envoy had already reported back about some of the wonders they saw here, like metal birds that carry people, and reports from the other side suggest the Poison Lady is in a mad fervor to replicate and then surpass the achievements of these Earthlings. Of course, that gives Gwendal the honor of being the first ever crash dummy in Shin Makoku.

                Wolfram feels slightly guilty about it, and swears to bring home a pile of stuffed animals as compensation, although he also included several manuals for elektonik appliances that he found from around the house. Miss Jennifer did say he could take anything, and it’s not like he saw anyone using these anyway. The words were still too complicated for his level of reading, but he was confident Anissina would be able to make sense of the diagrams, and then find shortcuts for the rest of it.

                But that still left the question of who should be trusted with Yuuri’s safety when he becomes king. Conrart alone won’t be enough, judging by the rate Yuuri runs around. It has to be someone who can constantly keep up with him, someone who can be left with him at all times—

                “Wolf, are you ready to sleep? If you are, I’m turning off the lights.”

                “Mm-hmm.”

                Of course! Wolfram realizes with a jolt as soon as the lights go off. A no-lightbulb moment, if you will. He’ll be the one to stay with Yuuri. After all, they’re already sleeping in the same bed. There was talk of him moving to Blood Pledge Castle to assist the young king, but why stop there? He’ll just move into Yuuri’s room, where there’ll be plenty of space. That way, Yuuri would probably feel more comfortable, and there would be someone to watch him even at night.

                Wolfram is confident that he would be able to detect and apprehend any suspects who might attack at night. Besides, he doesn’t really admit to himself, it’s fun being with Yuuri. There’s always something happening.

                It doesn’t occur to Wolfram at all that for most of the time, he is the thing happening.

 

Recently, Wolfram has been getting busier as well. It’s all because those annoying human children voted him leader of their silly carnival, but because Yuuri seemed to think it was a good idea, he had shrugged and gone along with it.

                As it is, Yuuri seems more excited than he is.

              “Wolf, someone suggested a nice place in town that might work for the café. Want to go check it out after practice?”

                Recently, Yuuri has been inviting him out for meals a lot more often than he used to. He says it’s to find inspiration for that festival thing, but Wolfram suspects something more. Although Yuuri seems to be paying for these trips with his earnings from his work at that unpleasant place, it’s not like him to spend so much money on such pleasures. Wolfram would imagine he should be saving up for nicer gloves, or something like that.

                “My friend also said that the place has great macaroons!”

                …He’s also not the type to eat such overly sweet foods, but Wolfram concedes that he was won over by the promise of those brightly-colored confectionaries. What a strange thing, these makkaruns are. Crunchy and sticky, made with inordinate amounts of sugar, and requiring the skill of a master to perfect. Each one is like is carefully crafted masterpiece, and yet they can be bought at any little shop.

                And again, they do not come cheap.

                Wolfram frowns when he sees the price listed in the glass cabinet. “Yuuri, you shouldn’t spend so much.” The last thing Shin Makoku needs is a wasteful maou. Wolfram decides that he should instill in him the values of thriftiness as early as possible. He just didn’t think Yuuri needed that lesson.

                “It’s only for today,” Yuuri insists. “You’ve been working hard these past few weeks, don’t you think you deserve a reward?”

                Wolfram’s heart softens at his eagerness. Really, he’s an open book. Well… a king who is kind to his ministers would probably be well-received. “Fine, but at least let me pay for it.”

                “We split half-half.”

                “Fair enough.”

                The ambience in this particular café is different from the others they had frequented, which is probably why Yuuri wanted to come so badly. The lighting is bright, and the walls mostly white, but the simplistic decorations tone down the glare with pale blue flowers painted on several surfaces. The effect is sunny but not glaring, and suitably cheerful.

                “Welcome, boys.” The waitress behind the counter is similarly chirpy. “Glad you could make it, Yuu-chan!”

                “R-Rika?” Yuuri seems oddly flustered, which instantly makes Wolfram suspicious. “You work here?”

                “Sure do, I come here straight after school on Tuesdays. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’m never at practice on Tuesdays?”

                “Ehehe…”

                “Yuu-chan! How could you!?”

                Wolfram’s eyes narrow. This girl is far too friendly with him. And what right does she have to demand that he notice her presence? When Wolfram observes her closer, he recognizes her as one of Gurrier’s helpers around the club. Isn’t she also the one who asked Yuuri out of class that day? In other words, she’s the reason Wolfram had to eat lunch alone for the first time since he started at this Earth school.

                Unconsciously, his expression turns to a scowl.

                “Ooh, scary!” The girl feints fear, dodging behind Yuuri. Hey hey hey, why are you touching his shoulder? “Yuu-chan, tell your pretty friend he doesn’t look so beautiful when he’s mad like that.”

                “Don’t call me pretty,” Wolfram growls. Only Yuuri can do that, because only Yuuri truly means it.

                “Rika, can we just place our order already?” Yuuri sounds exasperated, and Wolfram notices what’s wrong. It’s not just her, he’s acting particularly close to her too. Since when did Yuuri call girls by their first name, anyway? Didn’t he say it’s an honor only reserved for family and other special people?

                “Yuuri.”

                “What is it? …Wolf?”

                Wolfram smirks triumphantly at the girl behind the counter, who just rolls her eyes at him. “Oh, nothing.”

                “Goodness, you’re so childish.”

                “Is he?” Yuuri interrupts in confusion. “But this guy here is eighty—”

                Wolfram elbows him in the stomach. It seems Yuuri has been neglecting his core muscle training, because he bends like a beach chair. The girl Rika shakes her head and walks into the kitchen to pass on their order, muttering something about “domestic violence”.

                Somehow, that pleases Wolfram.

                The seat they take is next to the large shop window, and gives them a perfect view of the street. Yuuri chatters excitedly about “scenes of everyday life” and “late cherry blossom rain”, when he just wants Wolfram to take out his sketchbook again. Wolfram still can’t understand it—why does Yuuri like watching him draw so much? He had always expressed admiration for Wolfram’s art in the past, but recently he has gotten even more fervent about it. Thinking back, it probably started when Wolfram suggested decorating the walls with pencil portraits, partly because he still can’t get over the ingenuity of such a simply effective drawing tool.

               He had lost himself in sketching a flower in a vase someone had left on the teacher’s table, and when he looked up, he found Yuuri staring in a way that inexplicably made his face heat up.

                After that, Yuuri always jumped at any opportunity to goad Wolfram into drawing.

                It exasperated Wolfram, and even annoyed him at times. Art isn’t something you can whenever you want, y’know. The atmosphere and conditions must be just right, and most importantly, you have to wait for inspiration to strike you. Every artist needs a muse.

                But when Yuuri wheedles on insistently like this, sometimes Wolfram pretends to draw just to keep him happy. The product is always decent but not brilliant, as is expected when his heart is not in it. In fact, Wolfram thinks as he glances at the scene outside the window, it’s a perfect waste of paper. There’s not a thing out there in the concrete jungle that he feels like drawing right now—

                Then the light hits the glass at just the right angle, and for a moment it becomes a mirror, reflecting the impatient artist and the person sitting next to him.

                Wolfram pauses. The reflection distorts and is gone, but he adjusts his position further, until the image solidifies once more.

                In the glass, he watches Yuuri watching him.

                He has never noticed such an expression on Yuuri’s face before. Is this the face he wears when he thinks Wolfram isn’t looking? There’s no trace of that wild energy he usually has bounding everywhere. The Yuuri in the glass is tranquil and peaceful, perfectly happy just sitting there and watching Wolfram draw. A small, almost melancholic smile graces his lips.

                Don’t smile like that, Wolfram wants to say. It doesn’t suit you.

                But it does. He would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t. This Yuuri isn’t blindly, optimistically charging forward, but he’s still living in the moment. It just happens to be a quiet moment.

                Wolfram’s hand starts moving on its own accord.

                Yuuri always shows his emotions on his face, so this complicated face must mean complicated emotions. What are these feelings directed at? Who? Wolfram’s mind is in a bit of a mess as his pencil darts across the paper.

                What are you looking at, Yuuri?

                Wolfram knows the answer, and it makes his ears burn.

                And by the time he finishes his portrait, not of what lay beyond the mirror but what is reflected in it, his entire face feels as hot as the flames he conjures. Before Yuuri can see what he’s drawn, he quickly tears away that sheet of paper and puts it into his pocket—after slowly, and carefully, folding it up so it doesn’t crumple.

 

After they get home that night, and Yuuri has gone to the bathroom with his towel, Wolfram takes out the drawing and stares at it with mixed feelings. So engrossed is he in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize when a certain spy got into the room.

                “Nice picture, Your Excellency.”

                Wolfram’s head snaps up. Josak’s smile is unreadable.

                “His future Majesty really is adorable, isn’t he? I’d fall for him too, if it weren’t for the difference in our statuses.”

                Wolfram frowns. “Yuuri doesn’t care about things like that.”

                “I know, right? He’s a swell guy.” The smile widens, and abruptly vanishes. “Y’know, I hate to be that guy, but remember the mission, Your Excellency. It’s bad enough that you lot leave the reporting to me half the time.”

                Wolfram’s grip tightens. “We can’t have Yuuri getting suspicious.”

                “Mm-hm. Just remember who you swore fealty to, Lord von Bielefeld.”

                It is only after Josak has left the room that the tension leaves Wolfram’s body. But by the time he loosens his fist, the pencil sketch is already crumpled beyond repair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't get as much progress done as I had hoped over the hols, whoopee me... On the brighter side(?), the end is in sight! 
> 
> ...and so is the beginning of the next semester...
> 
> P.S. So I just got redirected to the first chapter and OH HEY THIS LASTED FROM NEW YEAR TO CHINESE NEW YEAR WHY AM I EXCITED ABOUT THIS AGAIN


	25. Reverse, Replay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys meet some familiar faces and fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official beginning of the School Festival Arc?

The school festival lasts three days, ending just a week before the first district-level game with a neighboring school to kick off the baseball season. But I can’t focus on that yet, because we have no idea on which of the next three days a particular VIP will decide to drop in.

                It’s enough to get my pants up in a knot.

                _“Yuuri-kun, I’d like you to be in charge of this mission.”_

                Why me? How am I in any way qualified? But Rodriguez was full of reasons. It’s because no one else can be here for all three days, because I know the school best, because I’m a member of a mazoku family they can trust, because I’m the future maou’s little brother—

                He made it sound as though I really am some sort of royalty. The idea makes me shudder. Me? What a joke.

                Meanwhile, Wolfram is calmly delegating jobs at our class café. Although he hasn’t dressed up like the other waiters and waitresses, he looks smart enough already with a plain white shirt and a blue ribbon tied around his collar. All around him, people are dutifully obeying his orders, so the preparations go smoothly. See, now _that’s_ what royalty looks like.

                “He’s really impressive, isn’t he?” I sigh. Beside me, Conrad smiles.

                “He wasn’t always like this. In fact, if you ask me, I’d say he has matured tremendously since he met you, Yuuri.”

                “Is that so?” I can’t say that doesn’t make me happy. If anything, I just want to able to leave a lasting impression in his life. In all their lives. “Conrad, you never attended a Japanese high school festival before, have you?”

                “No, I can’t say I have.”

                “Then enjoy it to the fullest.” I pat his shoulder encouragingly. “Leave everything else to me!”

                Bold words to be sure, but as usual I’m not sure if I can live up to them, and how. As leader of this sub-mission, I have to patrol the festival sites whenever I can, and make use of whatever people I have on that particular day. For example, today I put Murata on sentinel duty at the main gate.

                And there he is at the takoyaki stall. Really, Ito could have walked past him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Look, the poor mascot is trying to hand him a balloon, but ends up walking away dejectedly because Murata is too occupied with his food.

                “Relax, Shibuya,” he says, blowing his mouth open and closed like a fish to let the steam out. “My sources say Bob’s in Paris watching the Victoria Secret fashion show today, and it’d take even him at least a day to get here from France. I suggest you take this opportunity to wind down a bit, things are only going to get more hectic after this.”

                He says that with an air of foreboding that sends a chill down my spine. Although he’s repeatedly assured me he has no powers of clairvoyance whatsoever, sometimes his predictions are still so accurate that it’s scary. That’s why I make him touch wood and turn three circles to get rid of the bad luck. It’s not my fault if some of the bonito flakes float away because he spun too fast.

                Putting aside his weirder habits, I still have faith in Murata’s judgment. That’s why I decide to head back to the class café even though it’s not my shift yet, and end up taking a seat at the front of house. Y’know, showing some support as a customer and all that.

                Wolfram, as acting floor manager, raises an eyebrow when he sees me coming and pulls out the chair opposite mine.

                “Are you sure you should be sitting down?”

                He shrugs. “What’s the point of running myself ragged already? As the person at the top, there’s no one to give you breaks, so you have to take care of yourself.”

                That makes sense, though it might be harder for Japanese people to understand that principle. Even to me, until I really think about it, it just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. Look, the girls behind the counter are whispering. They’re even pointing at you!

                “What if they think you’re just slacking off?”

                “Please, that’s something you would do. Am I that kind of person to you?”

                No, when he sets his mind to something, he takes it seriously, and sees it to the end. It’s really admirable.

                “Instead of looking at me so admiringly, you should step up on your own game. Next time I won’t let you copy my homework anymore, so watch out.”

                He just has to remind me… I pout, until he continues, “Well, maybe it’s because you prioritize the team first. But still, Yuuri, a leader has to be balanced, and balance out their responsibilities. For example, a ruler who focuses on fighting enemy countries won’t be celebrated no matter how overwhelmingly they crush the opposition, not if their own people are starving to death in the capital.”

                At the blank look on my face, he rephrases it into, “Or for example, it doesn’t matter how hard a certain first year baseball captain trains every day, it’s no use if he fails his exams and can’t go for the tournament.”

                Urk—I’d forgotten about that. I let my head fall dejectedly. Murata was right, looks like I can’t relax for an instant even after this festival.

                “Cheer up, you wimp,” Wolfram ends up comforting me instead. “I’ll be there to help you, won’t I? And Conrart says your English isn’t completely hopeless.”

                Yeah, that’s real comforting. While on the surface I sigh even deeper, the truth is I’m kinda smiling to myself inside. He’s so bad at consoling people that it’s cute to see him flail about trying. But as much as I’d like to keep him all to myself right now, today he has responsibilities towards the rest of the class as well. It wouldn’t do if he ended up leaving a bad impression after all. So I open my mouth and am about to chase him away, when someone kicks open the classroom door suddenly and loudly. The girl we set to greet customers at the door falls into the room, and Wolfram is instantly on his feet. I scramble up just a moment later, in time to hear the obnoxious words that follow:

                “Oi oi, who do you think we are!? Hah!?”

                Uwaa, what a typical gangster voice, it’s almost nostalgic. And as I expected, the stormy faces that stalk into the classroom are familiar ones.

                I guess I’ll never forget the people who tried to flush me down the toilet. I sigh, and get up.

                “Alright, alright, you want me, right? Let’s take this—”

                “Hey, you!”

                But it seems they forgot me, since they walk right past me.

                “Blondie! Remember us!?” Thug Number One walks right up to Wolfram, and ends up staring him down at such close range that their noses are almost touching. The guy has obviously never heard of private space. While I resist the urge to get in between them and shove the thug away, Wolfram meets his livid gaze evenly, and then breaks into the most charming smile. Even watching his profile from the side, I feel my heart skip a beat. The poor guy on the receiving end practically stumbles backwards from the glow of it.

                “Welcome to our humble shop, okyaku-sama. What would you like to order today?”

                His reaction is so unexpected that the whole room goes quiet for a full three seconds. And then Thug Number One explodes, kicking away a chair that had been lovingly decorated with white cloth and ribbons.

                “Hah!? What do yah take us for, a joke!?”

                His partner, Thug Number Two waves in their buddies from last time. “Well, ain’t this a nice place you got here? Boys, let’s wreck ‘em!”

                Our classmates try their best to block the delinquents from getting inside, but they’re quickly tossed aside like rag dolls. The thugs overturn tables and chairs, topple racks of cakes, and even tear Wolfram’s drawings from the walls.

                All our hard work… Just when everyone had finally started working together, and this was Wolfram’s one opportunity to grow closer to them—

                “Yuuri.”

                A fair arm blocks my way, and Wolfram steps out in front of me, blocking me from their view. “Calm down, you can’t reveal yourself here.”

                I blink, and the cups that were levitating above the table next to us come crashing back down. Thank goodness we took Josak’s advice and got plastic ones. The cups bounce off the table and are promptly kicked away by another thug, so I can only hope no one noticed anything odd.

                “Hey, the one you want is me, right?”

                Wolfram takes one step away from me, and pulls all the attention in the room onto himself. Be it the enemy or our own classmates, as usual all eyes are on him.

                He takes a breath. “If it’s about last time, I apologize.”

                Thug Number One lets out a laugh that sounds like a hyena. “That’s it? Ya think we’d be done with just that? Where’s your—”

                The words die abruptly in his throat when Wolfram bends at the waist, bowing at a perfect ninety degrees.

                The proud mazoku prince, who looked down on Earth people and customs when he first arrived… is now bowing to a petty thug, to protect the efforts of our classmates.

                Something catches in my throat. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, and my fingernails dig deep into my palm. Conrad’s words from before echo in my head—

                _He has matured tremendously._

I should be proud. I should be happy, and praise him—but why does it hurt so much?

                All the thoughts that run through my head lasted barely more than a second. While my feelings tumble over each other in turmoil, the thug has no such hesitations.

                While Wolfram is still bowing, he punches Wolfram hard in the stomach. Taken completely off guard, Wolfram falls to his knees, coughing.

                _“Wolf!”_

                That’s too much—How could he not understand— _Enough_!

                But once again, his voice catches me before I fall off the precipice.

                “Yuuri!” he calls out between racking coughs, each sound piercing me deep in my chest. “Don’t—”

                The thug raises his fist to hit Wolfram again, and I lunge forward to grab his wrist. So instead he clips the side of my head with his other hand, using so much force I can almost feel my brain sloshing around inside my skull.

                “Stop!” Wolfram crawls onto his feet, shouting, “You want me, right? If we stay here, the teachers will get here soon. You can take me somewhere quieter, and I promise I’ll let you hit me all you want. Will that do for you!?”

                I can tell it’s a tempting offer for the delinquents. The one hitting me pauses, but I grab his arm again to prevent him from leaving.

                “Yuuri, let go!” Wolfram’s voice has just the slightest edge of desperation.

                I shake my head stubbornly. I know the smart thing is to do as he says, and let them take off with Wolfram. I know we mustn’t fight back, not on school grounds and especially not in this classroom. I can still remember how it felt when this fist connected with my coach’s face, and the crushing remorse that followed.

                I’m never doing anything like that again. Not after we finally picked up all the pieces, not now that I had regained what I thought I had lost forever. Not again.

                Wolfram knows that too, and he made the choice. He decided to sacrifice himself for a while, so I can call the teachers. He was trained since young, after all, he can take a few hits much better than I can. And this way he can lead the thugs away from our classmates, who have nothing to do with any of this, and who have still suffered for it.

                One person’s temporary sacrifice in exchange for the safety of the whole class, it’s such an obvious decision to make.

                As if.

                I hang onto the delinquent’s arm, and endure the blows onto my back, my face, my head. It doesn’t matter, I’m sure someone would have gone for the teachers already. It doesn’t have to be me. Right now, I just have to stall for the time.

               Even if I can’t do much, even if I’ll never swing a fist at anyone else again, I can do this much at least. With this body, I’ll distract at least one person, keep at least one attacker away from Wolfram.

                Because above all, regardless of what logic tells me, I could never let them take him to somewhere I can’t see him.

                I won’t allow it.

                “Hey! Hey, what’s happening here!?”

                I barely hear the teachers’ voices through the ringing in my skull. It seems there are quite a few of them, though, and I think I spy a flash of orange, too. The thug on top of me is ripped away, and I smile up weakly at a familiar pair of brown eyes, the flecks of silver twinkling worriedly.

                “W-well… that sure took you guys long enough…”

                This time, I’m proud to say I didn’t pass out, though it hurt so much I kinda hope I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not reusing plot points, just plot-point-like characters... I hope XD This is like the third time these punks showed up lol
> 
> The first time, they beat Yuuri up and Wolfram beat them up; the second time, Wolfram and Yuuri beat them up together; the third time, they beat Yuuri and Wolfram up together... Eh? What's with this backward trend? //kicked


	26. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri throws it out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a bit late X'D

“Why are you always getting hurt!?”

                Wolfram paces the infirmary, throwing his hands into the air and occasionally jabbing fingers at my face. “Have you learned nothing at all!? Why do you think I did all that for!?”

                All the remarkable maturity he showed during the Siege of the Café has disappeared, and here he is, ranting non-stop despite the bandages on his cheek. I reach out to touch his face, but he smacks my hand away angrily, only to look guilty when I grimace in pain. Then he catches himself, turning his nose back up into the air.

                “That serves you right!” And then, softer, “Does it really hurt so much?”

                I bite my lip, and shake my head. He sighs.

                “Just hang in there, I’ll heal you when we get back.”

                “Me too,” I say automatically. “I’ll heal you too.”

                He smiles wryly. “Look at us, licking each other’s wounds. How pathetic.”

                “No!” I protest. My outburst takes him by surprise, but I plow through the embarrassment to say, “You weren’t pathetic at all. The way you handled it, when you bowed, and even when you smiled— It was all really, really cool!”

                He stares at me until I feel my face burning, and bursts out laughing when I avert my eyes.

                “…don’t make fun of me, I meant it…”

                “Haha… N-no, I know…” He wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes, still shaking. “It’s just—Who even says that? You sound like a kid talking about their favorite superhero.”

                I can’t help but smile too, and elbow his arm good-naturedly. A superhero, huh? Although a caped hero that obliterates all the bad guys with one punch is cool, I think someone who can put down his pride for others is even cooler. Of course, I’ll keep that to myself, or else he’ll laugh at me again.

                “Besides, you were the one who taught me all that.”

                “Huh? Me?”

                He pinches my cheek. “You forgot? ’Service with a smile’. The customer is always right. You taught me to bow when apologizing too. And way back then,” he sits on the bed next to me and leans backwards, supporting his weight with his hands, “You told me, ‘try not to fight, because we Japanese are a peaceful people’.”

                I-I did say that, didn’t I?

                “Aren’t you glad?” He grins at me. “I remember everything you said, you wimp. Hey, what’s with that look?”

                I try to smile, but it doesn’t really work, so I let my mouth fall back into a ‘へ’-shape. “I wish you didn’t say that. Doesn’t that mean I’m the reason you got hurt this time?” Again?

                He digs his fist into my side. “Don’t be so full of yourself. It was my choice, why don’t you just be nice and praise me for once?”

                “But if I praise you, you’ll keep on doing stuff like that and get hurt again.”

                “You really need to readjust your definition of ‘getting hurt’. Speaking of which, I thought you said you were a pacifist? So why didn’t you let go that time, you damned wimp, there was no need for you to take those hits!”

                “You were the one who used to scold me for not fighting back—”

                “So you’re blaming me now!?”

                “Let’s just agree that you’re both bad for each other,” Josak says, pulling us apart. “By the way, you totally forgot we’re here too, didn’t you? That’s really mean of you guys! Amirite, Cap’n?”

                Conrad’s smile is so wide it’s scary. “That’s Weller-sensei to you, Gurrier-sensei. Also, Bielefeld-kun, Shibuya-kun, care to explain what happened there?”

                Oh, yeah, all the previous scuffles with that gang happened before Conrad and Josak arrived here on Earth…     As it turns out, Conrad isn’t pleased to find out we already made such a big group of enemies from day one, even if the ‘enemies’ are guys he and Josak had just kicked out of the front gate.

                “But they’re not the main problem,” he sighs, holding his head. “The question is, how did they know where to find you?”

                My eyes widen. That’s true, we never told them our names, or even where we studied.

                “Gangs like these always have their networks,” Josak suggests. “And His Excellency stands out like a sore thumb among the people here, no offense.”

                Murata comes in just as Wolfram glares at Josak, and Josak quickly dives behind Murata for cover. Now, since when did the two of them get so close? Ignoring the question in my eyes, Murata continues the topic he had evidently overheard before coming in,

                “It’s not that simple. I asked around, and it seems the delinquents went straight for Shibuya’s classroom without making a fuss. That’s why they could get in so quickly without being apprehended.”      

                Conrad frowns, “Which means…”

                “They had someone feeding them info from the inside,” Josak continues thoughtfully.

                “Shibuya, the classroom where you were having your café isn’t your regular class, is it?”

                I shake my head. “Our usual class is on the second floor, and only a few rooms on the first floor were available for the festival.”

                “And how did you decide who got which room?”

                I turn to Wolfram, who replies, “We drew lots according to the type of class or room we wanted.”

                “And when was this?”

                “…Three days ago.” Wolfram’s expression darkens, as does everyone else’s. Sensing my confusion, Murata helpfully explains, “That means whoever the traitor is, they gave those thugs the information within these past three days. And it’s not something that passes through the grapevine for anyone who wants to know, so the person who did it went out of his way for it.”

                “Traitor?” The word is ominously familiar. “Murata, could it be the same as—”

                “Walls have ears, Shibuya,” Murata interrupts me suddenly. “Who knows where the culprit could be.”

                I feel my heart sink. The only ones in this room are—No. No way.

                “Murata, I trust them.” My voice comes out pleadingly. “Don’t you?”

                There is a moment of terrible, terrible silence as he hesitates, but eventually he relents.

                “I promised myself I’d listen to you and only you, Shibuya. If you want to trust them, so be it.”

                “I do,” I say firmly. As it is already, I can’t bring myself to look at their expressions. If they blame me for keeping secrets from them, if they suspect me of suspecting them… I close my eyes, and open them with renewed determination. “I would trust these guys with my life.”

                Murata sighs heavily. “Very well. Listen up, guys, since Shibuya has so much faith in you. We suspect that there might be a traitor amongst the mazoku, especially since the maou of Earth may show up at any instant—”

                While he explains the situation, I silently implore Wolfram to forgive me for keeping this secret from him.

                But for some reason, he won’t meet my eyes.

 

In the end, our injuries don’t really amount to much. Basically, we’ve seen far worse, so both Wolfram and I strong-arm Conrad and Josak into letting us out of the sickroom and back to work after a bit of bandaging.

                When we get back to our classroom, our classmates have already cleaned up most of the mess. The first one to notice us at the door is Takeuchi, who casually walks up to us and leans on the wall with his arms crossed.

                “Are you sure you guys are fit to be here? We don’t need any casualties slowing us down, so if you aren’t feeling up to it, just lie down somewhere and get out of our way.”

                I never noticed it before, but could he actually be something of a tsundere too?

                Wolfram waves him away, striding into the class. “We brought this onto ourselves, the least we could do is fix the mess we caused.” And just like that, he dives back into the crowd and takes charge once more, as though he never left.

                Takeuchi scowls at his back. “Sure is full of himself, isn’t he?”

                I lace my fingers and stretch my arms, bending my neck from left to right. “That’s because he has the abilities to back it up. C’mon, let’s get cracking. We’ll have this place back up and running again before closing time today, that’s what he promised me.”

                And he always goes through with his promises.

                Sure enough, with everyone’s help, we get everything sorted out within the hour. For the decorations that were destroyed, we adjust whatever remains to take up the empty space. The cups and plates on the floor are quickly washed, the overturned furniture righted again. We lost a decent chunk of our supplies, but we have enough left to last the rest of the day, and we sent someone out to buy the portion we were missing.

                No one mentions the riot, or blames Wolfram and me for bringing in the delinquents. On our part, rather than apologizing for it, we just keep our heads down and put our backs into the work even more. Actions speak louder, and all that.

                The first day of the festival ends on that relatively peaceful but slightly awkward note. A good night’s sleep and a maryoku-assisted healing session later, we come to the school again the second day more resolved than ever to make up for the distractions of the previous day. By three in the afternoon, with only three hours left before the end of the second day, business is booming again, and we have already made a comfortable profit. Anything we earn on the last day is just going to be a happy bonus.

                I’m just finishing up my shift, and thinking about how we still haven’t got any news about Bob, when suddenly I’m pulled out of the kitchen and kicked out of the classroom together with a visibly confused Wolfram.

               “You’re the only ones who didn’t get a break yesterday,” the monitor tells us sternly. “Especially you, Wolfram-kun, you gotta go out there and see what it’s like, or else the others will say we’ve been overworking you. And don’t worry about us, we got things covered here. Shibuya-kun will show you around, won’t he?”

                I nod my head hard, and flash everyone else a grateful smile. In fact, I don’t stop smiling even after we leave the class, until Wolfram flicks my forehead and tells me to get that stupid expression off my face.

                “I can’t help it,” I say, still grinning. “I’m just so happy that you’re getting along with the rest of the class, and that they’re finally seeing you for who you are—Hey, do you think you’ve made some new friends since we started this festival?”

                “Hmm?” Wolframs says distractedly. “Why would I need to make friends with them? I got you, don’t I?”

                I redden instantly. “N-no way, that’s not the right way to think! Connections are important, connections! You have to get people to like you, because you never know if they might help you in the future, right?”

                “Them? That’s not likely.” He seems to be looking around for something. “I mean, I doubt I’ll ever see them again after I finish up with my matters here.”

                Oh, yeah. He’s going back. Of course he doesn’t really care about making friends here, it’s not like they’ll matter once he goes back to his own world. In fact, he’ll probably never see them again, and it probably wouldn’t make an ounce of difference to him if he didn’t. I wonder, would he even try to remember these people he spent a few months in the same class with? Probably not.

                But then, what about me?

                “Yuuri, what’s that smell?” Wolfram asks, barely contained excitement in his voice.

                I sniff at the air, and lead him to the yakisoba stall.

                “This is the stuff that was in the bread that time, right?” His expression is nostalgic. “We haven’t had it since then, since your mother keeps making us lunch.”

                “It’s better like this, when it’s warm,” I find myself saying. Over the past few months, we never really went out of our way to try new things, especially since Mom always insists home-cooked food is best. In that case, this is as good a time as any. After all, that’s what festivals are for, right? To show off the best of our culture.

                Alright, I’ve decided. Today, I’ll do everything I can to make him fall in love with Japan, and maybe—just maybe—I can get him to stay.

                My brain keeps telling me it won’t be that easy, but either way, it’s worth a shot.

                “Wolf, over here!”

                “Huh? But I haven’t finished ea—Hey, hold on! Don’t spill the noodles!”

                We don’t have that long for our break. That’s why I have to make full use of every second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And moving on to a fluff chapter, probably the last lol


	27. Festivities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they experience the festival together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff~ for the most part.

The first stop is the haunted house. There’s a long line as usual, but it’s still bearable because we’re so early. The ones organizing it are the members of the Drama Club, which is why the props and actors are always top-notch. Apparently the less active Occult Club pitches in some expertise too, to make the attractions more genuine.

                For example, the sign plastered onto the renovated gymnasium door says that the haunted house this year is based on the true story of a mansion where a whole family was murdered in their sleep.

                Wolfram crosses his arms. “That makes no sense. If this mansion is as large and luxurious as they claim, surely this Duke’s family would have guards. In that case, even if the attackers manage to subdue the security, there is no way the chaos wouldn’t have woken the family. In other words, there is no way they could have been killed ‘in their sleep’.”

                I look at him helplessly. “Wolf, not every rich family has a whole squad of guards like where you’re from. And besides, this is a haunted house, right? Maybe they’re trying to say the things that killed the family aren’t human.” I tug at my lower eyelids to make a scary face, and nearly poke myself in both eyes when he hastily swipes at my hands.

                “Stop that!”

                I pause. “Could it be… are you actually scared of ghosts?”

                “W-who, me? O-of course not. I mean, they don’t exist!” He puffs up his chest. “Why would I be scared of something that doesn’t exist?”

                I sidle up to him. “But y’know… Some say our school is haunted. In fact, Nakatani from Class A can see these things, and she says—”

                He shoves his hand into my face, but that still doesn’t stop me from me from laughing my head off. Imagine, after all those things he says he’s seen in that other world, to think His Excellency Wolfram is scared of ghosts!

                But soon enough, the tables turn and he’s the one laughing at me.

                “Gaaah!”

                Even in the total darkness, the smirk is evident in his voice as he yanks me down from halfway up the wall. “What are you freaking out about? It’s just a doll.”

                It’s not just a doll, it’s a clown doll! That fell onto our heads! Complete with creepy laughter! Uwaa, it moved! It moved! It’s not a doll, it’s a person! It’s really a clown!

                “So? All I see is the signature war paint of the Thullu tribes from the mountainous regions of the von Voltaire territory. If anything, you should respect that. The bright colors are a homage to the wonders of nature and also a sign of prestige and bravery, you should be honored to meet one so distinguished.”

                Before I can say anything, cold bony fingers wrap around my wrist.

                “Eeek!” I launch myself onto him.

               “That’s just bad kotsuchizoku coth-play. Remember, Yuuri, they’re not kotsuhizoku because there aren’t any wings. Ah wait, there are the wings.”

                “Th-that’s a vampire!”

                “Don’t be mean, that’s just a dweller of the distant caves near the Shimaron borders. Their skin is pale because they only come out at night and before dawn, but their teeth are really good for tapping cotton rubber.”

                And further on—

                “I-it’s Freddy! And Jason, too!?”

                “An ambush!? Yuuri, prepare for battle!”

                “Don’t fight them, run!”

                “Why? If they are armed with such deadly weapons, we have a duty to protect—”

                “Don’t be silly, those aren’t real saws!”

                “…Then why are you so scared of them? Ah, isn’t this that second year short-stop, what’s his name… Itchy? What’s with the dark eye bags, you need to get more sleep, the match is next week!”

                Poor Icchi-senpai, crying like that will only cause your make-up to run, y’know, and it’ll be a hassle to put it back on again. Ah, but maybe the effect is better like this?

                Sorry, I just can’t help it. Going into the haunted house with this guy may have been the worst decision I ever made, I just can’t get scared—W-wait.

                “W-Wolf—”

                “Hmm?”

                “B-Behind you…”

                He turns around. “That’s some very beautiful black hair.”

                Sadako chases us all the way out of the haunted house, screeching something about disturbing the rest of the visitors.

 

“So, what exactly was the point of that attraction?”

                “Whatever it was, it was lost on you.” Ahaha, my cheeks are so tired, both from the screaming and the laughing.

                He looks at me sideways, with something like his old contempt but not as harsh. “Also, Yuuri, it seems we need to work on your bravery. Really, how could you get so scared over something like that?”

                “But that’s the fun part, isn’t it?” I grab his face and turn it towards to the line. “Look! Look at how many people are waiting to go in.”

                “I duhn gehd id.” He pulls my hands away from his face, and while he’s distracted I wrap my left hand around his right. “What’s so fun about being scared by cheap props and actors in face paint?”

                “As they say, tests of courage can bring people closer.” I wonder if I’ll ever have a beauty throwing their arms around me in the face of a jump scare. Sigh, it’s unlikely.

                “I’ve heard of life-and-death situations sparking romance on the battlefield, but such childish trickery—”

                “No, no, romance is best had outside of life-and-death situations.” We should get out of here, the Drama Club people are glaring even more now, and it’s scary enough even without the masks and make-up. Still holding his hand, I lead him away from the gym and towards the rows of stalls.

                “Ta-da! Behold, a Japanese traditional game, only found at festivals.” Usually summer festivals, but someone decided to bring it to the school festival too. Whoever you are, BRAVO!

                Wolfram squints at the basin of tiny goldfish. “Is this supposed to be an inferior version of that aquarium we visited the other day?”

                “Urk, not really…” I pay the stall manager and hand Wolfram one of the thin paper nets. “You’re supposed to use this to scoop the goldfish into this basin. Ah, careful—See? That’s what you get for being so impatient.”

                He frowns, cross-eyed, at the hole in his net. “What shoddy workmanship.”

                I resist the urge to laugh. “N-no, that’s normal. I mean, it is made of paper, after all. Ah, don’t poke it!” Aaand there goes yet another net.

                “You’re right, it is paper! That makes no sense, how could anyone fish with a net made of paper?”

                “Who said anything about fishing? You have to scoop it out, got it? Scoop. It. Here, I’ll show you.” I put all my focus into my wrist, and still go through two nets before finally picking up a sparkly orange fish. Wolfram hmphs, but I can tell my success has him raring to go. Which, of course, only makes him fail even worse.

                Finally, he swings a soaking wet net at me. “Stop smirking like that! If you’re so good at it, why don’t you do it again and show me!?”

                I dodge the blow and still get some fishy-smelling water droplets in my hair. Laughing out loud now, I go around his back and hold his wrist from behind. “Here, I’ll teach you. You have to be really gentle, and flick using your wrist…”

                His hair tickles my nose, and I quietly take in a breath. He smells like the shampoo we both use, his own distinct scent already so familiar to me that it reminds me of home. My chest bumps into his back, and for a moment he seems to stiffen in my arms. Sensing his discomfort, I begin to pull away, only to be stopped by his low voice,

                “That black one. Teach me how to catch it.”

                The fish he pointed out is slightly larger than the rest, and pitch black from head to toe. Even its eyes are a twinkly black, looking at us with disinterest as it takes a lazy circle around the pool. Its tail spreads out like a veil behind it, delicate and elegant.

                “Uh… That one might be a bit harder to catch.” It looks heavy enough to break through the paper even if the net stays dry.

                “Then we’ll just have to try harder.” Conrad and Josak are always saying Wolfram is known for being stubborn, and even has a famous nickname to show for it, but the way I see it, his stubbornness only comes up on rare and strange occasions. Like now, for example. His whole being is focused on catching that poor black fish, his eyes following its path through the water. I keep waiting for him to lunge, but he doesn’t move, even as the fish takes one circle, and then two…

                Finally, he turns his head over his shoulder to face me, and our noses practically touch. Ignoring the way my face burns up, he says irritably, “Hurry up, didn’t you say you were going to teach me? I can’t do it without you.”

               He might not be as hot-headed or stubborn as his brother says he used to be, but he sure is careless with his words. I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and pray he can’t hear it as I tighten my grip around his wrist.

                “Alright, on the count of three. One… Two… Three!”

                A splash of water.

 

“So… what do we do now?”

                Wolfram stares at the fish in the plastic bag. I shrug. “I guess we could bring it back and put it in a pot. These fish are easy to care for.” Although the ones I bring back don’t tend to live long. Urk, could that mean I _haven’t_ been taking care of them right? Maybe I shouldn’t mention that to him, since he really seems to like that fish.

                Why, though? I look at the fish still swimming in circles. Sure, it’s pretty, but it keeps going round and round like an idiot. It looks lazy, too. I mean, what do fish even do? I can practice my pitching with my dogs, but try throwing a baseball at a fish and all you’ll get is a dead fish and a wet ball. It’s unlike Wolfram to get attached to something like that. He’s even paying it more attention than he is me now!

                I puff up my cheeks. “I don’t see what’s so good about that dumb fish.”

                “Hmm?” He finally looks away from the fish and at me, only to burst out laughing. “Just as I thought, it looks a lot like you.”

                “Hah!? No way, there’s no way I look that dorky!”

                I’m about to argue more when we’re interrupted by a tug on Wolfram’s sleeve. The plastic bag holding the fish takes a steep dip and the water sloshes around, while the silly fish goes around in spirals and gets even more out of it. We look down to see a little girl of maybe four or five staring up at us with teary eyes.

                “…You want this?” Wolfram shakes the plastic bag a little more. It seems he’s not much better at taking care of small animals than I am, his oldest brother would be disappointed.

                The little girl shakes her head, tears spilling. I crouch down next to her and ask,

                “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

                This time she nods furiously instead. Her hand is still gripping Wolfram’s sleeve tightly, so the fish is probably experiencing a roller-coaster ride for the first and possibly last time in its life right now. I take her hand away gently. “That’s okay, let’s look for them together. I’m sure they’re really worried about you too.”

                Wolfram throws me a look of surprise, and I stick out my tongue at him. Yeah, yeah, I bet you didn’t think I’d be good with kids. I wouldn’t say I am, but if it’s just helping a lost kid find her parents, anyone could do it, right? There’s no need to look so shocked!

                He rolls his eyes at my childishness, as though he’s acting particularly mature himself right now. But after that he picks up the girl’s other hand, so I guess I’ll forgive him.

                There’s quite a large and mixed crowd at the festival, so I decide it would be best to just take her to the broadcasting counter and ask them to send out an announcement. Once we told the little girl our plan to find her parents, she became a lot calmer, and was even in the mood to look around at the stalls curiously. Wolfram tried his hand at a shooting game to win her a teddy bear but only got a pack of tissues in the end. The mascot gave her a helium balloon and rubbed our heads, giving us a big thumbs-up as though congratulating us for taking care of her.

                It was sunset by the time we found her parents. By then, we had already gotten used to holding a tiny hand and having a little person skipping in between us. In the end, though, she has her own family to go home to.

                The last thing she did before going back to them was to turn around and very solemnly hand Wolfram the pretty balloon she had just received. Wolfram didn’t want to accept it, but she insisted, so in the end he gave her the fish in exchange.

                “I thought you liked that fish?” I ask from the corner of my mouth, still waving at her.

                “So did she,” he says absently. “And I kinda liked her too.”

                “Whoa, no way! You’re a lolicon!?”

                “What, the type of sweet you suck? What does that have to do with anything?”

                “Not that, I mean… When you say you like her, in what sense? Why do you like her?”

                “Why? Because she looks a lot like you.”

                “…Does everything look like me to you!? It’s the black, isn’t it!? Everyone here has black hair, get used to it!”

                “I’m not talking about that. Don’t you think she looks a lot like your baby pictures? With the ribbons and lace and all that.”

                “……” This time, I’m really going to take away those pictures he has smuggled away.

                “Besides,” he continues nonchalantly, “it’s not as though I think every double-black is like you. Take him, for instance.”

                We just stand there in silence as Murata runs up to us, though considering his speed, the word ‘running’ may be relative. Even so, he’s panting by the time he reaches us.

                “D-damn you, Shibuya… Wh-why didn’t you pick your phone!?”

                “Eh, I didn’t?” Oh, yeah, they asked me to put it on silent before going into the haunted house. It seems I forgot to turn the volume back on afterwards, ehehe. “What’s the matter?”

                “ _What’s the matter!?_ This!” Murata holds up his phone screen, to show us a picture of Robert de Niro outside our class’ maid-and-butler café.

                He’s even posing with a ‘Victory!’ sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm experimenting with drafts because apparently Chinese New Year isn't over ahahaha
> 
> I'll try not to miss any updates, but AO3 hasn't been kind when I tried to post chapters on my phone in the past... Anyway, even if there's a delay it'll only be for one day, so yaaay =w=


	28. Tendrils of the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things start spiraling downwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a day and an hour late...

_“Japanese school festivals are fun! One day isn’t enough to see everything, so I’ll come back again~ But it sure is hot, though!”_

                “…is what he said.”

                I know, I can read it in the captions.

                “That codgy old geezer!” Shouri slams his hand down on the dining table. “He thinks this is fun, does he!? Making us run around like a bunch of headless squirrels, when we’re just worried about his safety!”

                “You gotta give him credit, though. He didn’t survive this a couple of world wars by being careless,” Murata muses, drumming his fingers on the dining table. We’re having a post-dinner emergency meeting, with my family, the other-world visitors, and a few other prominent members of the secret cult of the mazoku, including Miss Abigail who seems to belong to all three of the aforementioned categories at once. But I shouldn’t get distracted, Murata is still talking.

                “I’m just wondering how he managed to sneak past us, especially since there were so many of us on guard. Shibuya, did you notice anything?”

                I didn’t notice a thing, and he knows that perfectly well, but he just had to mention it again. He had already given me a sound scolding about neglecting my duties earlier, and it seems he’s not done with me yet. I know, I know, I should have been more alert. I’m sorry, so could you cut me some slack already?

                Murata turns away from my abandoned-puppy stare with a sigh. “What’s done is done. Now we have to focus on catching him before he gets into any trouble tomorrow, or at the very least make sure that if we can’t find him, neither can any enemies. Who here is available for lookout duty tomorrow?”

                “I only have a couple of shifts in the morning,” I say, while Wolfram tsks.

                “It’s the last day, so I won’t be able to get away that easily.” For some reason, he looks at me as he says that, and a silence follows his words. It takes me a while to realize that everyone is waiting for my response.

                “I-is that so? I guess it can’t be helped then.”

                Another brief pause, and Murata sighs again. “Shibuya, you need some self-awareness as leader of this mission. Wolfram, it would be good if you can keep an eye out from your station. I doubt Bob will visit your shop again since he’s obviously gone there once already, but maybe you can ask your classmates to see if they remember anything about an older man who looks like an should-be retired Hollywood star. Oh, and if it’s possible, try to probe that guy in your class—Takeuchi, was it?”

                “Takeuchi’s on our side now,” I say quickly. “I mean, not really on our side, but he’s not an enemy…” At least, I hope not.

                “I don’t think he’s any trouble either, mainly because we already have his number. What I’m thinking is that he might know something about the people who are. In that case, Shibuya, do you think you could ask him what he knows? From what I’ve heard, he’s more likely to answer honestly if you’re the one asking.”

                “Huh? Me? Why?”

                “…You really need to be more self-aware.” Murata puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face the room full of mazoku. “There, it’s your turn. Give them orders. You’re leader, aren’t you?”

                M-me? But most of the people here are my seniors, a couple of them are my parents, and all of them I consider friends. And now he’s telling me to just _order_ them around? What do I even say?

                “I-I can’t. Why don’t you decide, Murata? Just tell me what to do, I promise I’ll do it right this time! …Murata?”

                It’s not just him. For some reason, the whole house has gone deathly quiet. I look around frantically. Was it something I said? My own family won’t meet my eyes. Conrad’s smile is pained. Josak’s smirk is almost cold. And Wolfram—

                I can’t tell. It’s as though a mask fell over Wolfram’s face, and suddenly I don’t recognize him anymore.

                “Guys?”

                In the end, Murata is the one who breaks the silence. He clears his throat, and once our attention is on him, he claps his hands together just once. And just like that, the spell is broken. Everything goes back to normal.

                Or so it seems, on the surface.

 

The next day, the last day of the school festival, is bright and sunny. But something from the atmosphere last night clings onto my skin, making me feel clammy and uncomfortable. Not even the sun can shine it away.

                At times like these, the best course of action is action. So I busy myself with my shifts at the café, and when I’m off-duty, I crane my neck until it hurts, looking for anyone suspicious in the crowd. I even asked Takeuchi for a favor, and he roped some of our other teammates into the hunt as well. But in the end, the most suspicious people I find are our own people, patrolling around like alert guard dogs. There’s Rodriguez, discussing Gundam with the Anime Club members. And there’s Abigail, trying on kimonos at the photo booth. And there’s my mom, being surrounded by boys—Wait!

                Are you guys sure you’re here for a mission!? It looks like you’re just enjoying the festival to me!

                Look at Conrad, he’s strolling around casually, exchanging smiles with swooning teachers and students alike—but I’m sure he’s actually keeping a very close look-out! For sure!

                Just as I expected, he walks up to me and still smiling, says, “Noticed anything?”

                I shake my head, and we end up walking together. “I don’t get it, where could he be hiding? Are we even sure he’s here?”

                Conrad keeps his gaze forward, looking as though he’s talking about the weather, “I have met the maou of Earth before, a long time ago. He is quite an… interesting character. If I were a betting man, I would put my money on him being here and hiding in plain sight rather than the opposite.”

                “Are you?”

                “Pardon me?”

                “Are you a betting man?” I ask levelly. He looks thoughtful as he carefully words his answer.

                “It depends on what’s at stake. My father gambled for fun; in fact, that was how he met Josak. But he never betted anything important on a game that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he would win.”

                “But what about you?”

                He smiles at me. “I’m a coward. And I absolutely despise losing."

                “That doesn’t sound like you. I’d imagine you would be gracious at everything, even losing.”

                “Well, maybe I phrased that wrong.” He pauses. “I don’t ever want to lose anyone. Never again.”

                Surprisingly, I actually know what he’s talking about. “You mean, not after Suzanna Julia, right?”

                “Yes. Did Wolfram tell you?”

                “I think so. Or was it Josak?” Over the months, I’ve slowly gotten to know a lot about them. Josak and Conrad’s history, the situation over there with the war and the humans, even the reason Wolfram disliked Conrad in the past. Heh, I still remember how awkward it was for Wolfram to tell me about that, that one night after we had turned off the lights. He had gotten over it himself, especially after finding about race relations here on Earth. Even in the darkness, I could feel how his face heated up with embarrassment.

                And Josak would tell me a lot of things when we’re at the bar, especially things I’m pretty sure Conrad wouldn’t approve of, which is exactly why Josak waits until we’re way out of his earshot. Let’s just say we have many… adult conversations, befitting the location. It’s better for me to learn about this stuff from a reliable source, Josak had said, patting his chest, no padding required.

                Yes, I’ve learned a lot from them. But right now, when I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else they’re not telling me, the one I turn to is Conrad.

                “Conrad… You would never lie to me, would you?”

                He tries to look away again, but I’m sick and tired of that. So instinctively I pull his sleeve, and force him to meet my gaze.

                “Conrad, what is it that you guys aren’t telling me?”

                “Shibuya!”

                Before I can get the answer I was looking for, I’m interrupted yet again. Conrad turns to his savior gratefully, but the expression of relief on his face freezes somewhat when he sees it’s Murata. On his part, Murata doesn’t look particularly pleased either.

                “Why, hello, Lord Weller. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

                I just noticed how strange it is, the way Murata keeps referring to Conrad and sometimes even Wolfram with their official titles. Whenever he talks to them like that, I’m forcibly reminded that they belong to a completely different world, the kind I hear about and see in games, but have never personally experienced. But whenever I act even a little bit jealous that Murata knows what I don’t, he always acts like it’s a curse more than a blessing.

                I had hoped that the relationship between Murata and the other-world mazoku had gotten better recently, but today, all of a sudden, it had gotten even stiffer.

                “Shibuya, I need to talk to you about something. Shall we--?”

                He grabs my wrist and tries to pull me away. I let him, but at the same time, I turn around and call out, “Conrad, come with us.”

                I know that whatever Murata wants to tell me, he also wants to hide it from Conrad. But I’m not going to play at that game. I’ve had enough of all this secrecy. Once upon a time, maybe, I was fine with not knowing. But that was because back then I had thought that whatever their secret was, it had nothing to do with me.

                I’m starting to think that’s not true. Still, if I want them to be honest with me, the first thing I have to do is be honest with them. So, no more secrets. Conrad comes with us.

                Something flashes across Murata’s face, but it’s gone before I can figure it out. When he turns to face Conrad, his smile is perfectly friendly. “Okay. In fact, even better. Maybe Lord Weller can help me out, answer some questions.”

                He’s visibly shaken. His grip on my wrist is just strong enough to hurt. And he obviously has no idea where to go, so I lead him to the best decently quiet place I know. This time, I don’t think anyone’s using the changing room, so even if we were found here, we probably wouldn’t be accused of being perverts.

                It helps that we have a teacher with us, too.

                “So what is it, Murata?” I ask as soon as he catches his breath. His glasses are all fogged up, as though he had run all the way to find me.

                “Shibuya… they know. They think Bob knows too, that’s why they’re looking for him.”

                “Who? What?”

                “The enemy. The people who secretly oppose the mazoku here on Earth, they’re doing it because they found out. Again.”

                “What did they find out?” I ask, but there’s a sinking feeling in my chest. Murata opens his mouth and forms the words with his lips, but it takes a few times before he finally finds his voice,

                “The Forbidden Boxes. Shibuya, it’s happening again. Just like during World War II.”

                The Forbidden Boxes. Just the words alone send a chill down my spine. I’ve never seen one, or touched any part of one, but I know what they are, where they come from, and what they do. Murata made sure I know perfectly well. And I’ll never forget the look on his face when he told me what his ancestors had done to keep those Boxes out of enemy hands.

                “No way.” The voice that cuts through our slow-building panic is calm, if somewhat bewildered. Conrad glances at Murata, then me, and back again with a look of surprise. “Even if the people here know about the Boxes, what’s the point? All the Boxes are back in Shin Makoku.”

                Murata’s eyes widen slowly. “What do you mean? I brought two of the Boxes here, to Earth.”

                “That wasn’t you, remember?” I emphasize, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. His gaze is focused entirely on Conrad, who explains uneasily,

                “Yes, we know, but recently the Boxes have returned to our world. Shinou sensed it, and he sent Lord von Christ Günter to Seisakoku to fetch one, as well as my brother, Lord von Voltaire Gwendal to Darco to bring back the other.” It is only a long time later that I understood the consequences behind those words, and how treacherous both journeys were. Seisakoku and Darco, both are places no mazoku should have ever set foot on, though admittedly one is far worse than the other.

                But Conrad is saying the mazoku have been there, and that they had successfully collected all four Boxes for their king. Their Shinou. I turn to my left.

                All the blood has drained out of Murata’s face.

                I remember what Murata told me about Shinou, and from what I’ve heard, he’s not a particularly pleasant guy. But it seems that both of us had forgotten that regardless of what Murata’s ancestor knew or thought about him, the fact remains that Conrad and the others still consider him their ultimate king.

                I’m about to say something when I’m interrupted again, this time by Takeuchi who had come running. Damn, there’s just too much happening at once.

                “Shibuya, you should come see this. I think we’ve found the suspicious old man you were talking about.”

                “Ehh? Really? Where is he now?”

                “He tried to run, so we tied him up. Some of the boys are standing guard over him in the club room now.”

                …Are you telling me a bunch of high school boys really managed to catch and tie up the maou?

                Nah, of course not.

                The old man they got all bound up and ready for a questionable kind of video-filming definitely isn’t Bob, and I can tell that even without the sunglasses. But he does look familiar…

                “What do we do with him, Captain?” one of the boys asks. “Should we report him to the teachers? I mean, he was sneaking around the field all sneaky-like, so obviously he’s up to no good.”

                The field? Why would the maou have any interest in our low-quality field? No, why would _any_ visitor to our school festival wander over there?

                Takeuchi frowns at the confusion on my face. “Shibuya, are you saying this isn’t the guy you were looking for?”

                “Shibuya?” The old man looks up suddenly, his gaze boring into me. “Shibuya Yuuri?”

                And suddenly I remember why he seemed so familiar.

                “…Coach?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the bright side, I actually finished the draft before school opens, yayy~


	29. Out in the Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they stop pretending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it ends with two more chapters and a really short epilogue :3

My coach from middle school, who I’d punched for his obvious favoritism and had in turn made sure I never played a day of middle school baseball ever again. All I can say is, he aged a lot over the past couple of years. He even lost all his hair. But that doesn’t mean he lost any of his edge.

                In fact, it seems he has managed to get a position on the Koshien committee.

                After a heated confrontation with Weller-sensei and an unsympathetic principal, the day ends with me being suspended once again from the baseball team. It was the best Conrad could do to prevent a straight-out permanent ban and a suspension from school for ‘lying to the authorities’. Despite his best efforts, by the time I walk out of the school building and back onto the grounds, the sun is already setting, and the festival is officially over.

                “Yuuri!”

                I look up and open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out until Wolfram throws his arms around me. Standing in his firm, warm embrace, feeling his heart beating heavily against mine, for some reason… the tears begin to flow.

                The moment is ruined somewhat by the school mascot coming over to pat our heads just like yesterday, except sadly this time. And suddenly I realize where our missing maou had been hiding this whole time.

                I would have laughed until I cried, if I wasn’t already crying.

 

The atmosphere at dinner that night is somewhat disjointed. On one hand, Shouri is going bonkers over Bob’s “irresponsible, idiotic, insufferable” actions. It takes the joint forces of all the maou’s – present and future -- personal advisors to hold him back and prevent further bloodshed.

                On the other end, it seems word of my suspension has spread.

                “Do you want us to blackmail him?” Rodriguez says cheerfully, pulling out his phone. “I know some good tech guys too, I’m sure they can help you erase those pesky records pronto.”

                I shake my head wordlessly. For some reason, I don’t feel like saying much, and to be honest I don’t have much of an appetite either. I wouldn’t have eaten anything at all, if it weren’t for Wolfram. He is sitting next to me as usual, but sensing my silence, he doesn’t say anything either. He just keeps putting food into my bowl, and I just keep eating it mechanically.

                In the end, I think I may have overeaten.

                I stay quiet throughout the night, and find myself glad that the summer holidays have officially started with the end of the festival. Normally, the beginning of the summer also signals the start of baseball season, but I don’t think I could bear to attend– I mean, observe practice on the day after the verdict, so Wolfram skips with me.

                We end up accepting Murata’s offer to work part-time at his family’s beach store for a couple of days, until I get my head cleared up. I put all the effort I should have used for practice into selling drinks, and at night I collapse into the futon at the inn, snoring as soon as my head hits the pillow. I don’t even have time to look at the girls in bikinis, though it seems Wolfram wouldn’t be in the mood to scold me either.

                Over those few days, he doesn’t try to say anything to comfort me, and I’m glad. Murata doesn’t mention anything about the Boxes, either, just acting like his usual goofy self. That’s good. That’s perfect. I’m okay, I just need some time to recover, that’s all. There’s no use getting angry or upset, I figure. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I was playing on borrowed time anyway, surely someone would have found out about my records if I really did end up playing at nationals. In fact, by taking me out of the team before the matches started, we reduce the risk of the entire team being suspended from the tournament later.

                So in a way, this is for the best. It takes me a couple of days, but once I got myself to believe that, I was ready to return to the team. It’s the least I could, even as such a failure of a captain. And even though I’ve been suspended, that doesn’t mean Wolfram can’t play. I shouldn’t keep him away from the team, especially now when they need him most.

                Three days before the first match, I watch Wolfram put on his baseball clothes, and accompany him to the training grounds wearing only a hoodie. Thanks to Conrad, I could still at least watch my team practice for the game we had all been fighting towards, even if I wasn’t allowed to step onto the field. At least I still have a spot on the bench, right? It’s just like old times.

                If—No, when Conrad and Josak leave, I’m fairly sure I’ll lose that as well. And Wolfram…

                I watch Wolfram, shining on the pitch. He’s really gotten into the knack of taking charge since the festival. Now that the so-called captain has been practically taken off the team, the team is looking to him for guidance. And he isn’t letting them down.

                Really, he’s too much. He’s good-looking, smart, a natural leader. He’s a real goddamn prince, for goodness’ sake. Sure, he can be a bit immature at times, and stubborn. He’s picky with his food, he’s terrified of ghosts, and his sleeping form is atrocious. But even so, he’s way above my level. And still, not only is he willing to make friends with me, he even supports me in everything I do.

                What have I done to deserve him? What will I do without him?

                Even now, he’s holding up the team after I messed up. I had dragged him into this, and just one week away from the first match, here I am sitting next to Conrad on the bench, helpless, while Wolfram sweats it out on the mound. But never once did he complain. He just picked up my mess, and continued on without a word.

                I need to do something in return. I need to do something, or things will go on as they are, until the day he disappears from my grasp altogether. Now isn’t the time to be a wimp.

                “After the match.” I can’t distract him, but I don’t want to wait any longer.

                “Sorry?” Conrad turns to me.

                “It doesn’t matter if we win or lose.” I look at him determinedly. “After the match, I’ll confess to Wolfram.”

                I expected Conrad to be surprised, or shocked, or simply happy. What I didn’t expect was the alarm that flashes across his face. “Yuuri, what do you—”

                “Shibuya!” Takeuchi storms over to us, and yanks me up by the collar. “You hypocrite! After all you said to me, you’re just giving up? Or are you really blinded by him?”

                I blink at him. “Who?”

                “Your blonde boyfriend!” Takeuchi points at Wolfram angrily. “Don’t tell me you can’t see it? He’s taking your position! Damn you, I didn’t acknowledge you just so you could hand it over to someone else!”

                “That’s not it.” It’s not the same as when Takeuchi tried to take the position of captain from me. “He’s not taking it. I messed up, so he’s doing me a favor. He’s cleaning up my mess.”

                “Are you sure?” Takeuchi’s voice is a low growl. “It’s mighty convenient if you ask me. Your old coach shows up at our school just a week before the match? And where was he at the time? He wasn’t there when my old man trampled all over you, but he shows up as soon as the deed is done, to pat you on the back and say, ‘Leave it all to me’. Are you sure this wasn’t his plan to start with?”

                That makes no sense. Why would Wolfram want the team? It doesn’t mean anything to him, doing that would serve no purpose except… except to hurt me. But he would never do that. Right?

                “Conrad? Why aren’t you saying anything?” He’s attacking your precious baby brother… Hey, say something. But it’s no use. So I turn to the center of the field instead, calling out, “Wolfram!”

                He had been watching us as Takeuchi yelled, so loudly the whole team could hear it. Since he was standing in the middle of the sunlight, his expression had been unreadable. But when I call him, he comes to me, as usual. See? He would never betray me.

                “Wolf, tell him. Tell him you had nothing to do with it.”

                But he just looks at me quietly.

                “Wolfram?” Say something.

                “…Why, Yuuri?” His voice is shaking.

                I should be the one asking you that.

                “Why aren’t you fighting back? Why are you giving up?”

                It’s exactly the same thing Takeuchi asked. One by one, the others are starting to crowd around us. The same questions are branded on their faces, the same accusations glaring from their eyes. Josak lurks in the corner, arms folded. Conrad reaches out to grab my arm, but I shake him off.

               “It’s not as though I want to give up, I have no choice. I messed up, didn’t I? And now it’s on my permanent records. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

                “Then fight!”

                “How!?” I raise my voice at Wolfram for the first time in as long as I can remember. “It’s not like last time! It’s not like—like I’m being framed, or that I was treated unfairly. This is my own fault, don’t you get it!? Who do I fight, myself!?”

                “At least do something!” Wolfram, why do you sound even more desperate than I do? There’s something akin to fear in his expression. “Didn’t you want this so badly? You can’t let just anyone take it from you!”

                “What’s wrong with you? You’re not ‘just anyone’. You’re Wolfram, you’re—” –the person I love. “—the person I trust the most. What’s the matter? Hey, hey, what’s with that look?”

                His expression is as though saying—

                “It’s over.”

                Josak gets up from the wall, and walks over to us. He puts a hand on Wolfram’s head, and Wolfram uncharacteristically lowers his head. “You tried your best, ‘Excellency. But that’s enough.”

                “Gurrier…-sensei, what are you talking about?”

                “Josak!” Conrad says sharply. “Not here.” He glances at the curious crowd around us, but Josak pays no attention to him. In the end, it’s Takeuchi who clears the area for us, having sensed something amiss.

                Ignoring everyone and everything else, Josak turns back to me.

                “Oh, Yuu-chan, you’re so adorable, d’you know that?” He flicks my forehead. I clap my hand onto the spot he touched, but I’m too confused right now to feel the pain. “And you were doing so well, too. Unfortunately, you stumbled at the last hurdle. We can’t have a king who would give up the throne just because he made a mistake, after all.”

                “Huh?” I don’t… Why don’t I understand anything he’s saying?

                “You’re a bit on the slow side, too, tsk tsk.” Josak’s voice is still so kind, but the words he whispers into my ear are cruel. So very cruel. “Don’t you get it? There was no traitor, or at least, not like you thought. We didn’t want anything to do with the maou of Earth, he was just a distraction. It was all about you, always about you. Our candidate for the maou of Shin Makoku, Your Majesty Yuuri.”

                Me? Maou? And of Shin Makoku? I don’t get it. But I understand the other part of what he is saying. I only wish I didn’t. “So all this…”

                “It was all a test.” Josak straightens up. “And congratulations, you failed.”

                “A test…?”

                “Uh-huh. All of it. You were born to be maou and all, but Shinou sent us to check. Y’know, just in case. And thank goodness he did, too. Isn’t that right, Your Excellency?”

                They were sent here… All of them, sent here by that Shinou to test me. Is that why they approached me? Because someone ordered them to? Suddenly I remember the words Wolfram said that day, after he ran around the school yelling my name, and when he finally found me:

_“You’re the one I was looking for, after all.”_

He found me. But it was only because he was sent here to _test_ me.

I stare at Wolfram. Just once. If he looked at me with those emerald eyes just once, looked me straight in the eyes, and told me that Josak was lying, I would believe him.

                After all, he’s my first love.

                If he could just meet my gaze and tell me to trust him, I would, even if the rest of the world told me he was lying. But not once did he raise his face.

                So it’s true.

                “I don’t get it. How much of that was a lie?” The past few months we spent together. “Was I the only having fun?”

                The only one falling in love.

                “Ah, but I bet you must have found it funny too. I was completely taken in by you, wasn’t I? It must’ve been great, seeing me dance to your tune. All those challenges I suffered, when you stood by my side through them all, were you just grading me the whole time? Heck, it seems you _made_ some of the problems. And I thanked you for it.”

                What a fool I’ve been.

                “Yuuri, I—” Now he looks up, his eyes pleading. But it’s too late.

                “Don’t call me like you know me, Lord von Bielefeld.” Because it seems I don’t know you at all. I see, so this is why Murata always addresses them by their titles. They really are from a different world after all. One where it’s okay to mess with someone’s heart and trust like this.

                Wolfram stiffens at my words, and abruptly, falls onto one knee. “Your Majesty, please… forgive me.”

                But that only makes things worse.

                “I’m not your king. I failed, remember?”

                Besides, I don’t want to be your king. I never wanted to be your king. I wanted to be a lot of things to you, but never your king.

               But I see, so that’s how it is. If that’s how you were always looking at me, no wonder we weren’t getting anywhere. I thought we were, but again, that’s just me being naïve, isn’t it?

                Looking into the face I had been staring at for the past few months, the one I can’t help but think is beautiful even now, a sudden petty flame rises in my chest.

                “You know, you’re not the only who kept secrets.”

                Why wait? It’s already too late now.

                “Since we’re being honest with each other now, I just want to say—”

                The words I had always wanted to say.

                “von Bielefeld Wolfram, I loved you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this real fast cuz I had this in mind from the start, but now I wonder if it seems rushed... Hmm...


	30. Traces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri experiences grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going out now so I'll post this early~

I had always wondered what kind of face he would make to those words.

                The answer, it seems, is one of despair.

                And I wouldn’t be surprised if you said that was my expression at that time, too.

 

None of them come home that night. When I push open the door to my room, I have to blink at how empty it seems to be inside. The futons on the ground are gone, his clothes taken out of the closet. Even his toothbrush is gone from the toilet stand.

                I see, so they had it all planned out from the beginning, didn’t they? It seems that as soon as the secret got out, Conrad gave Rodriguez a call, and they practically sent over a moving squad. The guest room has been completely cleared out as well. If it weren’t for the bed sheets drying on the lines, I could have tricked myself into thinking no one has stayed in there for years.

                They moved in with barely anything of their own, and even though it felt as though they were slowly making this place home, in the end they left as lightly as they had come.

                Those bastards.

                “Roddy said not to worry about them.” Abigail sits on the sofa’s armrest, looking uneasily from one of us to the other. “They’ve temporarily moved back to where Wolfram stayed before this, but they don’t… they don’t plan on lingering for long.”

                “Who’s worried about them?” Shouri snaps. Between the Bob fiasco and this, he’s been particularly irritable recently. His bad mood hasn’t gone away even though Bob escaped—I mean, left the country a few days back. “If they think they can just use my little brother whenever they like it, they have another thing coming. They had better not stay for long, or I’ll teach them what happens when you underestimate Earth’s very own mazoku.”

                When he talks like this, it’s easier to imagine him as maou one day. Although this older brother of mine might seem like a hopelessly perverted otaku most of the time, the fact remains that he’s really smart, and that he has an eye for people and for things. When he was younger, my parents would say he’s a genius, though maybe their judgment isn’t exactly unbiased.

                So him, I can understand. But why me?

                “Why?” I look up at my family, at Abigail, and at Murata who had just let himself in silently. “You all knew, didn’t you? Because you’re not the least bit surprised.”

                If they didn’t know, Shouri would surely yell something like, “You!? Maou? Does their country _want_ to die?” Instead all of them act as though it was inevitable, and their expressions are more bitter than shocked or furious.

                My old man sighs. “Look, Yuu-chan, we’re sorry we kept this from you for so long, but… you have to understand, the condition was that their side had the say on when you were to find out.”

                “Condition? What condition?” My heart keeps on sinking. Could it be that my family had literally sold my soul to the devil, or in this case, the mazoku?

                I listen intently as they take turns explaining. As it turns out, that’s not exactly true. Instead, my soul _is_ the devil—I mean, the mazoku.

                Murata hesitates before saying, “Rodriguez mentioned to me once that your soul previously belonged to someone very precious to Lord Weller. He said… she was like his Christine.”

                “Yeah, I think I know who you mean.” Conrad, you took everything else away, but did you purposely leave this maseki with me? I pull the stone out of my shirt and wrap my fingers around it tightly. This warmth, I know, is no lie.

                My mother’s demon-like expression softens just a little when she notices the necklace. “Whatever else he was ordered to do, he is still Yuu-chan’s godfather, after all. I might not be very good at many things, but if there’s one thing Jennifer from Yokohama can pride herself on, it’s my ability to read people.” She pats her chest confidently. “And I believe Conrad was sincere, Yuu-chan.”

                My old man grumbles, “You just like his pretty face.” But he doesn’t deny what she said.

                Thinking back now, I suppose Conrad did seem more reluctant to follow orders. Maybe I can hope that to him, I’m special after all, albeit for unexpected reasons.

                But what about Josak? …And what about Wolfram?

                Just thinking of the name pierces my heart like a thousand sharp knives. Is this what heartbreak feels like?

                I didn’t think it would hurt this much.

               

I don’t want to go back to that cold, empty room, but I know I have to eventually. When I do, I’m glad that Murata follows me, even if I know I’m not going to like what he has to say.

                “Shibuya… I’m sorry. I knew all along that they were sent here by Shinou to observe you.”

                By now, my feelings have gone numb. That’s why my voice comes out flat, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

                “Because you seemed to be having fun.” He pauses. “You really seemed to like them, so I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you like that.”

                Instead, you waited until I had gone in too deep, and let them break my heart instead rather than doing it yourself.

                “Murata, in your own way, you’re cruel too, y’know?”

                “I know.” He lowers his head. “I apologize. But I want you to know… I never thought of you as the maou, or saw you as anyone other than Shibuya Yuuri, my friend. Please at least believe that much.”

                My silence puts him on edge, and his body grows stiffer and stiffer until I burst out laughing.

                “Hey, I was having a serious moment there!” He smacks my chest with the back of his hand, smiling weakly.

                I grin at him. “I know.”

                But then my gaze falls onto the empty half of my room, and my smile fades. I knew that person would leave someday, but I didn’t think it would be this suddenly… or under these circumstances. What about him? My heart twinges in pain. Did he know from the start that this would happen? Or did he plan on revealing the secret to me in another way?

                What would have been his happy ending?

                I fall backwards onto my bed, and press my arm over my eyes.

                Why am I still thinking about him? It’s over now, isn’t it?

                Except it isn’t.

                “Murata, as punishment for helping them keep such a big secret from me, I want you to do something.”

                “I thought you didn’t blame me for that.”

                “I never said that. But fine, if not as a punishment, then help me out as a favor.”

                “For you, Shibuya, anything.”

                I press my arm down harder, cutting off the blood flow to my eyes. I know doing that will make my eyes hurt like hell later, and even if I open my eyes now I won’t be able to see anything for a while. It’ll all be a white blur of static, and I’ll probably be dizzy too. But in this bright bedroom of only mine, right now I just want the comfort of absolute darkness. My voice even seems to echo in my ears as I say,

                “The first match is in three days. Could you stop by my school tomorrow and tell them I’m not feeling well? Just say I’ll be there the day after, not that I can do much to help.”

                I’m not supposed to participate, but if those three stop going to practice, I don’t know what kind of chaos the team will descend into. And it’ll be all my fault. After all, I was the one brought them in, and made them such important parts of the team. And I’m the reason they left. So it would be mighty irresponsible of me to abandon the boys too at a time like this.

                But at the same time, I don’t think I can bring myself to go there tomorrow. Not just yet.

                “Look for a pretty third year manager, the team calls her Rika-chan. She’ll know what to do.”

                Tajima-senpai already said so himself, he’s useless as a captain. He’s just too into the game to pay much attention to anything else. Takeuchi would be a good candidate, but some people are still wary about him because of the last incident, and he’s just a first year. Maybe next year, he’ll make a good captain.

                No, he’ll definitely make a good captain. I smile a little to myself, feeling truly comforted for the first time since my suspension. At least I know the team will survive without me. Without us.

                Murata leaves after promising me he’ll pass on the message. The last thing I ask is for him to turn off the lights on his way out. Once the room goes dark, I change into my pajamas mechanically, before I remember that I don’t have to put on a shirt anymore, since I’ll be sleeping alone from now on. But I’m too tired to change out again.

                I wash my face, brush my teeth and almost call out, “Your turn!” after I’m done. My mouth opens to form the first word, then I shut it again so fast that I bite my tongue and taste blood.

                _Why are you always getting hurt?_

                In the dark, I raise my foot to step over the sleeping figure on the floor, but it just throws me off-balance because there’s no one there. Instead, my foot lands with a crunch of paper.

                I look down to see the letter he had given me under the cherry tree on the second day we met. I had hidden it under my clothes in the closet because he seemed to be embarrassed by it, but it must have flown out when he packed his things in a hurry.             

_You’re the one I was looking for, after all._

                _Fate sure is a strange thing._

                _It’s a proposal._

                _Why aren’t you fighting back? Why are you giving up?_

Why should I fight back? Why can’t I give up? I don’t want to think about you anymore, but everywhere I go, all I see is your shadow.

                You’re the one who’s hurting me. I wish I had never met you. And I wish I’d never accepted this _stupid proposal!_

                I crumple up the letter, pitch it into the rubbish bin with all the strength I have, and fall face-first into my pillow.

 

Maybe it’s because my eyes are so tired, but I end up sleeping until noon the next day.

                My mom knocks on my door to call me down to lunch, and I obey without thinking. Dad’s at work, and Shouri has class, so it’s just the two of us eating. We haven’t had such a quiet meal in this house for a very long time. They had even changed the dining table back to our old, smaller one for four people.

                She tries to be her usual energetic self, but it comes off as forced. Still, it’s good to know that someone cares.

                “Mom… I just want you to know, I don’t blame you for anything.”

                Sure, they made a deal with strangers that would determine the course of my life before I was even born, but I know they meant well, in a way. I saw how upset they were for me, and I saw how they defended me. Most of all, I know how they raised me. It wasn’t just to be a king for another country they’ve never been to.

                They raised me to be their beloved second son, and to be me.

                “Oh, Yuu-chan…!”

                My mom throws her arms around me, and presses my face into her chest. And even though I think it looks a bit strange for a sixteen-year-old high school boy to bury his face in his mother’s breasts, I feel my heart settle somewhat. No matter what, I will still have my family.

                By nighttime, I even start thinking that maybe I can get through this in one piece. I guess I should be thankful that they got rid everything so thoroughly. There isn’t a single trace of them left, to the point where I might be able to convince myself someday that they were all just a dream. Yes, that sounds good. It would be nice to just forget it all someday.

                Then Murata comes over to report on his mission in the afternoon, and that possibility shatters.

                “They were… still there?”

                “Oh, yes, and practicing harder than ever. Especially Lord von Bielefeld. I have never seen a more reliable captain or a more hardworking player.” He pauses, his glasses hiding his expression. “From what I saw, he was working himself into the ground. He barely took any breaks at all, and by the time they called it a day, he looked like he was going to collapse.”

                “…Why are you telling me this?”

                Murata hesitates before saying, “Shibuya, you know I like him as much you do right now, but well -- and don’t you ever tell him this – I actually feel kind of sorry for him.”

                I stay silent. Murata sighs. “At the very least, go see it for yourself. I’ve done all I can, don’t say I didn’t try.”

                I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. You’re cruel, Murata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Counting down~ 3!


	31. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri confronts Wolfram.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy, we hit 1k before the 'finale'~ though I did extend the epilogue lol

I stand on the hill, underneath the cherry tree, and stare at our shabby ball field.

                In the movies, people are always wearing baseball caps to disguise themselves. Thank goodness I have a lot of those, then, even though I never wore one for that reason before today. Just to make myself doubly inconspicuous, I put on a dark hoodie I nabbed from my brother’s closet too. There’s no way they would recognize me like that.

                I recognize them, though. Every single one of them.

                Even from this distance, I can name all of the players running about the field like dirty white ants. Takeuchi is pitching, Kitamura-senpai gets a bunt, and runs for the first base where Ookawa-senpai is standing. Tajima-senpai yells as he swings his bat, ready to bat next, and gets a hit on the head from Rika-chan. In the dugout, Conrad is discussing strategies with Icchi-senpai, and even Josak is running about, checking on the other players. I remember the first time I met each of the people on the field. At first, we had to go around looking for players, but towards the end some of them came to us instead. I remember how happy I was every time I received a new application form, and every time, I would turn around to smile at him—

                The catcher stands up, yelling orders. Directing this player to that stop, changing up the batting order. I watch quietly as the team responds accordingly, laughing and joking with the catcher but giving him the same sense of silent respect that a captain earns all the same. Finally he taps Takeuchi’s shoulder and calls a time-out, taking off his catcher’s mask.

                The person who I had gotten so used to seeing behind my shoulder, is now standing alone in the batter’s box so far away from me.

                His golden hair is matted, lacking the shine it used to have. His face is lined with sweat and sand, his jersey filthy underneath the catcher’s vest. It’s just past noon, and already he looks like he’s been playing for days. And are those bags underneath his eyes?

                Instinctively I reach out my hand to touch him. Just then, as though sensing movement, he raises his head and looks towards my direction. Those emerald eyes, once so proud and bright, are more tired than I’ve ever seen them. But when our gazes meet, they brighten up instantly and so obviously that I can tell even from this distance.

                Panicking, I pull my cap down over my eyes and run away with my tail between my legs.

 

I don’t get it. Why is he still working so hard?

                It’s not like helping the team win will do anything for his mission. I doubt baseball will do much for his career in his own world much, either. So why…?

                The image of him, battered and dusty as he stands on the field, is burned in my brain even as I try to sleep that night. The look in his eyes is exhausted and almost haunted. By what? Guilt? Can I really believe what Murata suggested, and think that he regrets what he’s done?

                But so what if he feels sorry? Can I trust him again after that?

                Of course I can.

                The ease with which that answer comes to me takes me by surprise. Of course I can forgive him. If he just comes back to my side, I can accept everything. Because despite everything that’s happened, he hasn’t changed. He’s still the person I fell in love with, so my feelings haven’t changed either.

                Ah, I’m hopeless. This is why he calls me a wimp, because of these feelings. Because right now, all I want is to hear him call me a wimp again.

                Light comes in through the window. It’s dawn, and I still haven’t gotten my thoughts in order. The match will probably start soon, too. I should probably go cheer them on, all things aside. It’s the least I could do for the team, and to be honest I don’t want to miss this moment either.

                But the problem is, can I face him? Does he want to see me? The last thing I want to do is to show up and distract him. Or am I thinking too much of myself?

                I smile to myself bitterly. There’s no way he’d want to see me. I’m just the candidate for king that failed, remember? He wasted all this time with me, only for me to mess it up at the end. And to make things worse, I was the one who couldn’t take the loss and took it out on him. Thinking back, I was being super immature.

                Plus… There’s the matter of the last words I said to him. I want to hide my face in my pillow and never resurface. How can I face him after that? It’s just like when he confessed to me under the cherry tree, but that was a misunderstanding, that was—

                I bolt up in my bed, and nearly fall off the bed in my haste to get to the rubbish bin.

                It’s empty.

                A cold sweat breaks over my skin. My mom must have cleared it out—when? Could it still be in the collection pile? I almost take off, ready to burst out of my room and dash down the stairs three at a time, when I spy the corner of an envelope poking out from the stack of books on my table.

                As expected of my mom.

                My hands are trembling as I slowly open the envelope. The words are just the same as I remembered, as illegible as the first time I opened up this letter. This is that world’s language, right?  His language.

                The language of my soul.

                I run my fingers across the writing, and stiffen when the meaning appears in my mind.

                _To Yuri Shibuya—_

Of course, he had no idea how to write the kanji in my name. Instead he kept trying out different spellings to write my name in the mazoku language of that world, and kept crossing it out. The final result is slightly strange, but it’s definitely my name.

                _My name is von Bielefeld Wolfram, and I come from a faraway country in search of you—_

He was as blunt as ever. Does he realize how his words can be interpreted? Sheesh, he’s clueless.

                _I cannot tell you why, but rest assured I mean you no harm—_

That’s suspicious, that’s totally suspicious! You’ve never been a spy before, have you? You should take some tips from Josak, and be glad I’m only reading this letter now. Or maybe… maybe you never meant to trick me.

                _I don’t ask that you trust me immediately—_

But I did.

_\-- and after how I spoke to you yesterday, I cannot ask that you like me—_

But I do. So, so much.

_I just hope that we can get along._

A tear slips down my cheek, and leaves a perfectly circular stain on the paper.

_Yuri Shibuya, let’s be friends._

 

What a thing to write to the person you just met the day before. Sure, you saved me from being flushed down the toilet, but after that you insulted me, remember? You called me a wimp!

                And then you have the nerve to ask to be friends. You sure are greedy, von Bielefeld Wolfram.

                But I’m even greedier.

                Holding the letter tightly in my hands, I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life, heading for the field where they’re playing the game. But by the time I reach there, it’s too late. The match just ended.

                We lost 2-0.

                Some of the seniors are crying, but even then they’re smiling through their tears. It’s a very complicated expression, one that fills me with guilt as soon as I step into the dressing room, but Tajima-senpai claps me on the shoulder and tells me not to worry about it.

                “It’s not like you being here would have changed anything,” he says almost cheerfully, which kind of hurts. “But without you, we wouldn’t be here at all, now, would we, boys? So let’s give it up for our Shibuya-taichou!”

                I get tossed into the air by a bunch of dirty guys even though I’m not even in uniform, and nearly hit the ceiling because we’re indoors. Man, these guys are strong.

                I don’t try to stop them, but once they put me down I quickly ask for the people I don’t see in the room. Faced with my panic, they exchange uneasy glances. In the end, it’s Rika who says,

                “Don’t you know? Weller-sensei, Gurrier-sensei and Wolfram-kun are going back to their home country as soon as we’re out of the tournament. They already left.”

                Tajima-senpai bites his lips. “I’m sorry, Shibuya. We tried so hard to win, so they would stay a little longer, but…”

                Takeuchi comes up to me quietly, and puts something into my hand. “von Bielefeld asked me to give you this.”

                It’s a beautiful golden brooch with wings. I pin it onto my shirt with shaking hands, and prick myself in the process, drawing a drop of blood.

                See? As usual, you’re always hurting me.

                “He also said that if you wanted to send him off, he’ll be at the place where you first met, the—Hey! Shibuya, at least let me finish!”

                But I’m already gone.

 

Of course I didn’t need to hear the rest of his sentence. As if I’d forget where we met.

                “Wolfram!”

                For some reason I find him about to take one step into the fountain opposite the toilet. I know Japanese summers are hot, but you don’t have to go so far, y’know. And if you really needed a shower, there’s a toilet right there—Wait, that’s beside the point!

                Josak is nowhere to be seen, but Conrad flashes me a smile before jumping into the fountain. Just like that, a grown man of above average height and build disappears into two feet of water. I see, so that’s why they’re here. Thank goodness I made it in time.

                He stops when he hears my voice, and puts his one lifted foot back onto Earth, but he doesn’t turn around. I keep on walking until I’m just two steps away from his back.

                “Wolfram, look at me.”

                For some reason, Murata is leaning on the wall of the toilet building. He gives me a thumbs-up when I glance sideways at him, his glasses glinting. The cunning old fox, I’m starting to get the feeling he knows everything. But whatever, I’m not here for him today.

                Wolfram turns around slowly. Ah, as I thought, there are lines under his eyes that weren’t there before. That’s not good, he has to learn how to take care of himself. That’s what he was always saying to me, wasn’t it? He should take his own advice.

                He meets my eyes for a second, and then lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry, Yuuri, I tried my best but I couldn’t—”

                I slap him across the left cheek.

                The ‘smack!’ sound is loud and clear, reverberating around the park. Wolfram looks stunned.

                “That’s for everything you did to me,” I say calmly. My hand left a bright red imprint on his face, and the red seems to spread, from his cheek to his eyes. Is he… is he going to cry?

                I start to panic. That’s not what I was hoping for at all! I think.

                Behind me, Murata says, “Shibuya… do you have any idea what you just did?”

                “Of course I do!” How dare he underestimate my knowledge like that. I put my hand back onto Wolfram’s cheek, softly this time. “Wolfram taught me, didn’t you?”

                It was one of those nights, when the lights were off and the world was silent. He lay next to me and told me about the strange, wonderful customs of his strange, wonderful world. He told me how in older times, people used to propose with a slap on the cheek.

                Back then, I had laughed and said it sounded like domestic violence. When I told him what that meant, he had frowned and said, no, it’s not like that at all. Sure, it was a painful way to propose, but it’s still an act of love. Then he considered it again, and murmured, or is it because love can be painful?

                Thinking back, he was so straightforward and cute then. He still is, now.

                “So, uh… what do you say?”

                Shit, what was the response again? I don’t remember him saying anything about it. This is my first time proposing and everything, and it was on such short notice too, what if he thinks it’s too amateurish? W-what if he rejects me? Wait, I’m not ready for that yet, I don’t think I can take it—

                He leans in to respond, and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying like I’ve never done before. Please, please don’t—

                My eyes fly open when his lips meet mine.

                This is… my first kiss, standing by the fountain outside the toilets. A few feet away from where we first met, around the spot where I watched him fight off thugs, exactly where I was nearly too late, and almost lost him forever.

                He breaks away from me, laughing at the dumbstruck look on my face. Then he hugs me tightly, kisses me one more time, and then—

                He shoves me away.

                “W-whoa!”

                Taken off-guard, I lose my balance and fall onto my butt. At the same time, the momentum sends him falling backwards. He keeps his back straight and his eyes never look away from mine. I scramble to my feet, sending the soil flying underneath me, and dive with my hand outstretched to grab his—

                But I’m just too late. My hand grabs at nothing but air, and there is a burst of light that blinds me.

                By the time I open my eyes again, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I see people were expecting an apology or a real confrontation or something, but as I was writing this I asked Yuuri, Would you forgive him? And he was like, instantly, Yeah.
> 
> Because he's Yuuri.


	32. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything comes to a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... close... to a perfect 71k...

It takes me until the end of summer vacation to clean up after them.

                They may act like they cleared up everything, but that’s far from it. I had to explain to all of Weller-sensei’s admirers, I had to comfort Katsura-san and find him a new helper. And then there’s the matter of the club. It wasn’t easy, but we all worked together to convince one of the teachers who was closer to Conrad to take the job. The principal still won’t budge on my removal from the team, but you know what? I think I’m okay with that now. Maybe I’ll try out coaching.

                A couple of weeks after Wolfram disappeared through the fountain, Murata calls me to the same park, and we sit on the bench just in front of the water.

                “Y’know, Shibuya, I’ve been thinking.” He takes a sip from his coffee. “I wonder, do you think those guys really meant what they said? About you failing.”

                “Huh? Of course they did, why would you ask?”

                “Because of that.” Murata jabs a thumb at his chest, at precisely the area where his heart would be. “That thing you’re wearing, do you know what it is?”

                It’s the brooch Wolfram had given me after we lost the match. I had never taken it off since.

                “It’s the von Bielefeld family crest. By giving it to you, he was swearing fealty to you. As a minister to a king.”

                My breath catches in my throat. “You mean…”

                “Also, you said he taught you a lot of things about Shin Makoku, didn’t you? Lord Weller taught you swordsmanship too. If they were only out to test you, I’d say they’re very biased examiners.”

                “But—”

                “That’s not the only contradiction. They said they’re the ones who got you suspended from the team, but without them there wouldn’t be a team to start with, would there?”

                I swallow, my throat dry. “That was obviously just to spite—”

                “Oh, don’t think so highly of yourself. It’s more than likely that they were acting on two different sets of motives. Now think carefully – which of their actions do you think were on Shinou’s orders, and which were of their own volition?”

                I fall silent. For one, I’m pretty sure Shinou didn’t order Wolfram to kiss me.

                “And one more thing.” Murata pauses. “You know… I spoke to Gurrier here just before he left. I don’t think he’s as heartless as he might seem. His expression when he went back… It was like a soldier off to war. Shibuya, I think it might be my fault.”

                “…Hah?”

                “Not all, but just a part of it. When Lord Weller told me that Shinou had all the Boxes, I think I may have overreacted a bit. Oh, it wasn’t obvious to you, but I’m sure Lord Weller caught on. He probably realized that Shinou was a threat to you. Shibuya… I think they might be trying to protect you.”

                “In that case, why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” So all this time since they left, they’ve been fighting over there on their own? Those idiots! Even I can tell that Shinou isn’t an easy enemy to defeat! “I have to go over there and help them!”

                “Sure, I’ll go with you.”

                “No, I can’t let you—Wait, what? Can I actually get there!?”

                “Of course you can.” Murata looks at me like I’m the idiot here. “After all that training from me, Murata Ken the magical prodigy? Your maryoku is more than strong enough to get to that world.”

                This time I actually grab his collar and start shaking him. “ _Why didn’t you say so sooner!?”_

“Because I wasn’t sure if you’re ready.”

                I stop.

                “If you go there, they’ll make you maou, y’know. Your life won’t be your own anymore. Are you sure you can accept that?”

                “Of course.” After all, my life hasn’t been my own since he came into it. But—“I’m scared.”

                “That’s only natural.”

                “Murata, tell me honestly… What do you think that person thinks of me?”

                Murata muses it over. "Do you want me to be really, really honest with you?”

                “That’s what I just said, isn’t it!?”

                “In that case… All I can say for sure is that he considers you a good king.”

                That’s all I need to know. I walk to the spot where he had pushed me out of his embrace. “So I just need to jump into that fountain too?”

                “It’s not that simple… You also have to wish really hard to get there.”

                I’m pretty sure that’s considered simple. I take off at a run, and dive into the fountain, letting the water swallow me as I think, with all my heart—

                Please, take me to him.

*

When the boy and his friend reach the other world, they are greeted by a muscular man with a butt-shaped chin, and then by the familiar swordsmen with the silver-tinged eyes. Later at the castle, they also meet a sexy mother of three, who quickly accepts the boy as a future son-in-law, as well as a beautiful dripping old man who protests very loudly at that. A bit further on, they meet a human girl who was taken in custody for attempting to assassinate the regent, Lord von Voltaire, but the boy takes an instant liking to her and adopts her as his daughter.

                But before that, he finds the person he was looking for, and ascends to the throne as His Majesty Shibuya Yuuri, the 27th maou of Shin Makoku.

 

 

                And now, they will begin their final confrontation with the man known as Shinou, over the possession of the Forbidden Boxes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And wow... 71k. That's... a lot of words. 
> 
> I considered writing a Side:Wolfram, but it seems like most of it was explained in this epilogue anyway... To make things clearer, I guess Shinou's plan was to having a) the trio disillusioned with Yuuri as a common Earthling, b) give Yuuri more things to care about on Earth so he might be reluctant to go to Shin Makoku, c) to grab the mazokus' loyalty before Yuuri can, and d) to make Yuuri hate them for their betrayal... sorta. 
> 
> On the other hand, Wolfram's final goal was... to have Yuuri make that first trip of his own will.
> 
> And I bet that will make all the difference :)


End file.
